Cunning
by ninashtia
Summary: I took a deep breath before mentally going over the list of lies I could use to get out of this one. Merlin, why did I have to fancy him when I couldn't have him? OW/OC
1. Annoyed

******Disclaimer: **All recognizable characters/places are owned by J.K. Rowling and her publishers, and I do not claim ownership over them or their world. No copyright infringement is intended; this piece leads to no financial gain and it is written for the purpose of personal enjoyment and skill development. OC's and plot do belong to me.

* * *

**Cunning**

_**The art of winging it**_

_**oOo**_

"A man who is used to acting in one way never changes; he must come to ruin when the times, in changing, no longer are in harmony with his ways."

-Niccolo Machiavelli, _The Prince_

**_oOo_**

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**Chapter 1 – Annoyed**

Winging it is an art; a form of life. It is well known that as long as you can dodge curses faster than the person throwing them, you'd be able to keep it together. After all, problems really begin when life outsmarts you, and you are out of excuses.

My life began to slip through my fingers faster than a Firebolt one morning during the summer holidays when the post arrived.

"Elizabeth! You are going to use up all of the hot water," I could hear Francis screaming at the door even with the shower on – probably because I wasn't beneath it anymore but he didn't need to know that. I brushed my teeth (twice) while the room continued to turn into a sauna, all the time imagining Francis' beet red anger and giggling.

"Elizabeth!"

I rolled my eyes, secured a towel firmly across my body and opened the door. "Did anybody ever tell you what a fantastic interpretation of an angry bull you make?" I asked, cocking my head to the side, a strand of wet dark hair slapping me in the right eye. "Bugger," I muttered, pushing it back and making a mental note to get a trim.

Unlike my side of the family, Francis and his younger sister Gwendolyn had inherited their father's golden locks which meant we hardly looked alike. In fact, I remember asking their mum if Francis had been adopted on several occasions. "Just shove it," he said, pushing me out of the bathroom and into the hallway, and slamming the door closed. I shook my head and walked away.

A second later I heard the expected high-pitched shout, "Elizabeth! You -!" I snickered, putting my fingers in my ears to keep the sound of my cousin's foul mouth out, and opened the door to the room I shared with my youngest, and more tolerable, cousin.

Gwendolyn was lying on top of my bed, playing a game of chess with the one and only (thank Salazar) Oliver Wood. While Gwen, all thirteen years of strawberry-blonde genius was pondering her next move, the resident brat was staring quite inconspicuously at me. And what was worse, his golden retriever was chewing on my duvet. You know all that crap about Gryffindor's being honourable and whatnot?

Well, it's crap.

"Wood out," I said keeping my voice even and composed, pointing with an outstretched arm to the hall behind me while securing the towel against my non-existing chest. "And take that sodding beast with you!"

The twit licked his lips as he rearranged his burly figure on my bed, "We are playing chess, care to join?" The dog barked and spilled saliva on the floor; I cringed.

"Could you stop that beast from eating my covers? It's disgusting," I said, my mouth twisting in a disgusted sneer. Times like these I really wished my aunt and his mother had never met.

"Daisy is a lady, not a beast," he said with a silly grin and a fake apologetic smile.

"You really need to think twice about what you consider ladies to be, Wood. Although considering that thing you dared call your girlfriend, the dog is a definite improvement."

He gave me small chuckle, checkmated Gwen's king much to her horror, and stretched his arms before getting off the bed. I watched him as he nudged the dog by the collar. She jumped on her paws and rushed past me, almost making me lose my hold on my towel.

I was still standing by the door when he passed me by, lowering his head so as to whisper in my ear, "Don't worry Sarah, I like my girls with an actual rack."

Sometimes, I just want to kill him out of sheer displeasure, "Oh yeah? Well I like my boys with brains, dumbarse!" I slammed the door shut, but could still hear his laughter coming from downstairs. "And it's Elizabeth!"

Gwen stared at me doing a bad job at not laughing in my face. "That was a lousy comeback, Lisa. Losing your touch?"

She had a point, not that I'd ever admit it. "Sod off," I muttered, opening the drawers where I had my clothes and searching for something to wear.

Every year, since my mother was permanently hospitalized in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, my father's sister, Aunt Adelaine, had taken it upon herself to take my brothers and me away during the summer time. Unfortunately, most of these vacations included the Wood family. Mrs. Wood and Aunt Adelaine were old school friends with a penchant for vacationing together, which usually meant anywhere between two to three months of non-stop-Oliver-Sodding-Wood companionship.

Him and his habit of calling me by my first name.

My parents hadn't been original when naming me and had simply insisted I be named after my mother, Sarah; I suppose they threw Elizabeth in there for good measure. Only Wood insisted on calling me Sarah; I was Elizabeth to everyone else.

"Breakfast is ready, hurry up or Francis and Oliver will eat all of the food before you even get there," Gwen said. I waved her off as I put on a top and a pair of shorts. It was supposed to rain that day, which meant no beach. What, I ask Salazar, is the purpose of vacationing in Greece if it is going to rain for four days in a row? It had been four days trapped with not only Wood but Francis. As if dealing with one Gryffindork wasn't enough… at least Gwen was in Ravenclaw. My brothers, William, Armand, and Nicholas had all graduated from Hogwarts (William was even married) already, and were thus exempt from these trips.

Oh Salazar, please help me survive the next Gryffindork-infested month with at least half my brain capacities intact. I solemnly swear I shall abuse my prefect status to benefit our noble house if I do. I finished dressing and walked down the stairs towards the kitchen. I took a seat next to Gwen and away from the two laughing trolls and grabbed some tea. The adults were having their breakfast out of doors. It wasn't two minutes before Mrs. Wood walked right into the kitchen.

"Post is here!" Mrs. Wood chanted as she distributed the day's mail. We were all sitting at the round, rather small, kitchen table enjoying some dry toast and slightly burned bacon. Well, I was enjoying the toast, not the bacon. The dog was safely locked in Wood's room for the time being, and the dork seemed to have taken that a bit too personally. I shrugged for what could I possible do to make it better?

"Here you go, dear," Mrs. Wood said handing me a letter. Curious, for I had expected zero correspondence over the summer, I looked to see whose it was. A groan escaped my throat before I could help myself.

There, written in ridiculously uptight writing were the words "_Terrence Maximilian Higgs_." I looked at my half eaten toast, and whatever appetite I had disappeared. Deciding I would not continue to ruin this hideous morning, I put the letter down and picked up my cup of tea.

"Who is that from?" Francis asked with his mouth full of bacon. I recoiled; little things like this made it extremely hard to believe we were actually related.

"None of your business." He gave me a wicked smile before diving in and grabbing the letter from right beneath my plate. Bugger.

"Francis, give that back before I am forced to hex you," I said, trying to sound calm.

"Oooh, Terrence Maximillian Higgs…. Do all of your ex-boyfriends write letters with their full names on them? What do you reckon he's trying to do, Oliver, make up for something else?" Wood spat the tea he had been drinking all over himself, and even Gwen giggled. My cheeks heated up. "What can I say? I don't particularly like having you in the family, Liz, but dumping that twat was perhaps the only moment in which I was proud to call you my cousin."

"Francis, I'm warning you," I said through gritted teeth. Of all mornings to forget my wand upstairs I had to choose this one.

He raised his eyebrows before tearing the envelope apart, "Do you worst," he said with a grin, throwing down the empty envelope and holding my letter with his left hand. We both sprung from our chairs at the same time. He was closest to the door, and I had to go around Gwen so I almost tripped on the small carpet Mrs. Wood had positioned at kitchen's entry.

Somewhere above us, the dog barked.

I chased him across the living room and up the stairs until we reached the room he was sharing with Wood. The dog barked again. We both froze; his hand on the handle mine itching for my wand. "Francis," I tried to reason, "Give me the letter and no one gets hurt."

His smile widened before he turned the handle. I had no time to prepare before I was tackled to the ground, the dog holding me and my nose hostage. I tried to pry her away from me, but she was weighting me down. It took me two whole unobstructed breaths to realize Wood had grabbed her by her collar and had to pulled her off of me. He even had time to offer me his hand- which I ignored.

Rushing inside the room, I found Francis sitting comfortable on his bed and reading my letter. I gave what sounded like a war cry andI threw myself on top of him and tried to remove it from his hands, but the prat had longer arms than me and kept it out of reach. Wood walked in as if two people weren't fighting to the death wasn't anything worth remarking upon, and took the letter from Francis' hand. I fell; thankfully, on Francis' back. If I was lucky, the impact would have broken his spine. However, I happened to have more important matters to fret over.

Like the fact that of all people who could possibly read whatever humiliating thing Terrence had written, it had to be the sodding Scott.

"Wood, give me that letter," I said trying to keep the terror from popping into my voice. I pushed Francis' head down against the wooden floor and propelled myself off of him and unto my two feet.

"'Dear Elizabeth,' " he began reading; I tried running at him like a mad woman, but Francis grabbed my ankle and I tripped. " 'I hope you are having a nice summer; I am too, if having a nice summer means that all my time is spent thinking of you,' how sweet," he threw me a mocking smile. "'I am quite sorry not to be there with you and blah blah blah.' Honestly, Sarah, you can get a cavity out of this thing."

I could feel my face getting hot, with something more than just mortification. "Hand it back, Wood!"

He cleared his throat before continuing, "'I really wish you would let me explain the events that transpired' –transpired? Who uses that word on a letter?"

"Who knew Higgs could read?" Francis chipped in from the floor. I kicked his head with my free leg, making him squeal and earning my freedom. I jumped on Wood's back and he caught one of my legs, so I was straddling him from behind. "Give me that!"

"Wait a second!" he said with a laugh, slapping my hands away with a lazy move. He didn't seem to mind that I was hanging unto his neck for dear life. "I am about to find out why you two broke up last term."

"Two galleons he forgot to compliment her on a new haircut!"

There was cold sweat coming down from my spine, and my legs felt like jelly. He couldn't, Wood and Francis could _not_ find out why Terrence and I broke up.

"Oliver, return that letter immediately!" we all turned around, quite mid-scene, to see plump Mrs. Wood looking murderously at her only son. I felt Wood's body tense, and begrudgingly he handed me the letter. I jumped off his back and held the wrinkled parchment to my chest. Mrs. Wood motioned with her finger for Woody to follow her, and he threw me a 'thank-you' glare before leaving the room.

I replied by s him a victorious-in-your-face blown kiss before I pocketed the letter and proceeded to walk out.

"You didn't have to overreact you, know?" Francis said; he was finally off the floor and I wondered if the hardwood floor's markings on his face would become a permanent fixture. I hoped so. "It was just a letter!"

I ignored him, grabbed my wand from my room, run down the stairs, put on some shadily constructed sandals and rushed towards the door. Aunt Adelaine yelled something about taking an umbrella with me. I ignored her. I hit the road closest to the cottage, not caring about where I was headed.

Directions be damned.

When it did start to rain, (and I mean tropical-thunderstorm kind of rain) I took refuge in a small coffee shop. I bought a cup of tea with some stray muggle money I had in one of my pockets, and sat down to read the letter.

Leave it to Terrence to be disgustingly sweet when he needs to.

"_Lisa, I know you probably don't want to hear from me right now, and I understand. But we have too much history to throw it overboard due to one mistake on my part. There is also our future to consider. I just want you to know that you are still my chosen one. And that I am a __stupid __git__, although you can probably come up with a better insult than that._

_Just… forgive me._

_Love, Terrence_."

What a twit, I thought as I tore the piece of parchment into tiny pieces, only to regret it five minutes later.

It was with a heavy feeling that I returned to the rented house- some couple of hours later.

"Elizabeth, where were you? You can't just run off like -" Aunt Adelaine began scolding me the moment I put one wet toe in the house. Everyone stared, of course: I was soaking wet, it had rained for the entire blasted afternoon, and I had been gone for well over six hours. I even missed tea. And supper. Unfortunately for her, I was hungry, angry and frustrated (not to mention wet) and didn't bother to pay her much attention. She was left with no other option but to follow me up the stairs while yelling at me. She has good lungs, Aunt Adelaine does.

"I'm a witch," I said when I reached the thankfully empty bedroom and began getting off of my wet clothes and grabbing fresh ones to change into, "I'm seventeen; I had my wand on me. I'm pretty sure I can defend myself if need be when surrounded by muggles."

"That is not the point, young lady, you are under my charge here and you will do as I say for once," she continued, now following me towards the bathroom. I needed a long bath, and hopefully Francis hadn't finished the hot water in retaliation for this morning. I doubted the thought had even occurred to him, the poor sheepish fool. "You are grounded," Aunt Adelaine said with finality, arms crossed tightly across her massive chest for effect.

I rolled my eyes, "Fine." I slammed the bathroom door on her face and proceeded to open the hot water faucet. I could hear her threatening to send me back to Britain in a millisecond but we both knew that was a ruddy lie.

I took my sweet time with that bath and by the time I left, perfectly clothed, it was after dark. Of course, Wood was playing chess with Gwendolyn on my bed, again. I leaned against the doorframe with my arms crossed and a frown on my face, waiting for the resident prat to get the point. "What?" he shrugged when he finally met my eyes. He moved his bishop, allowing Gwendolyn a nice view of his queen. Idiot. "It's raining, and we are both grounded; the options for entertainment are rather slim right now so we might as well avoid killing each other just yet."

I snorted as I sat down between them, grabbing Gwendolyn's horse to attack Wood's Queen. He swore colourfully and made a dull move with one of his towers. I smiled. "Mate in five, Wood; you really shouldn't have lost that queen of yours."

"Bugger."

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**Author's note: **I hope you enjoyed this :) Another version of this story was originally published circa 2010 (named 'A long December') and it got to 19 chapters or so before I took it down since I wasn't sure where it was going. This time the story will be completed since it has already been written entirely (yay!). I'm expecting I'll be able to post a chapter a week, but school, work and life may get in between that and delay the posting, although I am hoping it won't.

Also, read the prequel ('A Long December') if you'd like.

Constructive criticism and reviews are much welcome and appreciated:)


	2. Burned

******Disclaimer: **All recognizable characters/places are owned by J.K. Rowling and her publishers, and I do not claim ownership over them or their world. No copyright infringement is intended; this piece leads to no financial gain and it is written for the purpose of personal enjoyment and skill development. OC's and plot do belong to me.

* * *

**Chapter 2 – Burned**

The plan was simple enough for any common town fool to comprehend: convince the adults to let us go out, lose the Gryffindorks, get smashed, and (finally) find me some hot Greek bloke. The first parts at least went by smoothly.

Francis got lost within three seconds of us walking in, and I purposely lost Wood shortly thereafter. The arse was currently sitting on a nearby stool, sweet talking some gorgeous blonde and flaunting his trademark grin. It made me sick to my stomach, really. The cheeky bastard sent me a wink when he caught me staring, just before leaning in to whisper something to Miss Blonde.

I couldn't help but grimace at the thought of being so close to Woody.

Taking another rather large sip of my drink, I began to scan the area for a suitable companion. My eyes immediately fell on a rather burly guy not too far off. I inspected him cautiously. His skin glowed in the dim electric light, and his hair was rather dark and messy. His features looked manly enough, but it was the biceps and triceps emanating from his black shirt that drew me in. What can I say, a have a weakness for athletes.

He caught my eye and I gave him what I hoped was an alluring smile before returning to my drink. Quickly tapping my lips with my tongue I made sure my lipstick was still in place. Time to play to cool; I counted in my head. One, two, three… I felt a hand tap me in the shoulder, and I gave myself a mental pat on the back. A side glance told me it was Mr. Muscles alright.

Elizabeth 1; muggle club 0.

"Can I buy you a drink?" said a very heavily (and sexily) accented voice that made my insides squirm like squid on a barbeque. I offered him a coy smile making sure to keep my eyes hidden underneath my fringe for extra allure.

I read Witch Weekly, ok?

"Sure." He motioned to the barman to get us both a refill, and I quickly drowned what was left of mine before accepting the new one. I licked my lips before digging in.

He held his drink forward, and I clicked mine with his; my eyes never leaving his. "Pieter," he said, extending his arm.

"Elizabeth," I replied. He drank his beer; at least I thought it was beer, in one long gulp, giving me perfect access to stare at his well chiselled profile. It seemed to me I had scored me a hot Greek Gyros.

_Finally_ this vacation was going somewhere I enjoyed.

He wiped the foam from his lips with the back of his hand, and offered me a drunken grin which I found oddly attractive. Normally I'd catalogue him as a Neanderthal due to his horrible manners, but when in Greece…

He offered me his hand again, "Would you care to dance?"

I nodded and flung my handbag over my shoulder before following him to the dance floor. His hands found the thin line between my hips and my arse quickly enough, while I snaked my arms around his broad shoulders. He whispered something in my ear which tickled, but other than that I did not understand a word he said so I giggled hoping that would be a good enough response.

It must have been because he proceeded to lock his lips against mine; not that I complained. This was by far the best thing that had happened since I left England.

He smelled of the ocean and sun lotion and and his hand drew tiny but seductive circles on my lower back bringing forgotten sensations back to living memory. It wasn't fireworks and butterflies, but it was damn good snog and Merlin knew I hadn't had one since… let's not go there.

Who knows? Perhaps one kiss could still save this retched summer.

Just as the kiss was getting somewhere we shall call "interesting," I felt an annoying tug on my upper arm. I waved my hand at it in an irritated fashion as if trying to kill a fly, refusing to open my eyes and confirm my worst suspicions. But the pulling and poking persisted. Groaning in pure vexation, I tore myself away from Green-Eyed-Greek-God to stare at a very angry looking Brown-Eyed-Scottish-Moron.

"Can I help you?" I asked through gritted teeth.

Wood rolled his eyes and grabbed a hold of my arm, yanking it away from Gyros' neck rather forcefully. "Matter of fact, yes," he said and without waiting for a reply, began to push me towards the opposite side of the club. I screamed at Gyros' (was that even his name?) that I'd be back, I just needed to sort out some garbage but I doubt he heard me over the music.

One of these days, I am going to stop talking and actually kill the Gryffindor captain.

"What the bloody hell is your problem?" I yelled over the music as he continued to force-walk me forward, "Just because you can't get any doesn't mean we should all do the same!"  
"For your information," he yelled back, "I wasn't trying to get any. And we are having a little bit of a situation," he stopped walking abruptly, causing me to crash unto his back. The sodding idiot didn't even notice, he just grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me around so I was standing in front of him. He lifted his arm to point at something, but I was momentarily distracted by the closeness of his cheek to mine. "See that big bloke over there?" I nodded, still confused, still wanting to commit homicide. "Well, he is about to decapitate your cousin. Do something."

"Excuse me?" I asked indignantly, turning my head to give him a better glare. Bad idea, his face was facing my way and we were awfully close. I quickly returned to my forward-facing position, hoping I won't have nightmares. "You had to break up a perfectly good snog to save Francis' arse? Why couldn't you do it yourself?"

"Because, Sarah dear, that bloke there is about eight feet tall of pure, sodding muscle. He'd kill me like a mosquito."

"That makes perfect sense, Wood. Send the five feet four petite _girl_ instead!" So much for 'Gryffindor is where lie the brave of heart' pftt.

He chuckled before answering, "You got it wrong, dearie. I am sending the seventeen year old _witch_ who carries her wand in her handbag to deal with big, bad _muggle_. Now, off with you!" he pushed me forward so that I precariously landed in front of big, bad muggle and a terrorized Francis.

"I don't know what his problem is!" he yelled at me, "I only snogged one girl!"

I rolled my eyes at my cousin's dim witness. He too was of age, but the bubblehead probably forgot to bring his wand or was too hammered to conjure up a proper spell. Annoyed as I was, I nevertheless faced the giant with one hand on my hip, the other one fishing for my wand inside my shoulder bag. "Oi you big twit!" I yelled to get his attention. He moved his big beady brown eyes away from my cousin's cowering figure and towards me. He flashed me a crooked smile. I suddenly felt I was standing before a mountain troll rather than an actual human being. "Yes you, now if you know what is best for you, you will stop beating the crap out of that pesky little-!" I couldn't finish talking because the beast had grabbed me from the waist and tried to violate my lips.

Ew.

Screw my wand- this required serious measures. The prat was wearing sandals, so I stepped on his foot as hard as I could with the pointiest part of my stilettos just as a fist collided with his jaw. Hurting from two body parts simultaneously, he let me go and I lost my balance, crashing on the floor. Wood was by my side in an instant trying to help me up, but he had to duck because beast tried to retaliate. "Now what?" I screamed at him, as I extended my leg hoping to trip him over.

"No idea," he replied with a look of alarm as two new bodybuilders were joining in the fight. One of them grabbed Wood by the collar and lifted him up to begin using him as a punching bag. I scrunched up my nose at the noise and secretly prayed there wouldn't be any blood. I hate blood.

Francis was back on his feet and trying to throw a punch of two, but was mostly losing his balance. Woody wasn't faring much better, but at least he could hold his ground. Beastie, on the other hand, decided I would be more fun to play with than two skinny British blokes. He yanked me up and smirked, tracing his hands on my hand. I shivered at the unwelcome contact, but took the opportunity to try and hit him again. This time he was ready for my heels and moved his foot away in time, making me lose my balance and fall closer to him. Not one to go down easily, I elbowed him in the gut with all my strength while simultaneously grabbing my wand.

I speedily scanned the scene. Francis was on the floor, two blokes hitting him with their backs exposed to me. Beastie was still reeling from my apparently successful elbowing, and Woody had managed to knock one guy out. Fights were breaking everywhere, and unless I could retrieve my two Gryffindorks, there was no way in hell we were getting out of here.

I spotted a big lamp just on top of me and, keeping my wand concealed in my handbag; I struck it, "Reducto!"

Sparks went flying everywhere as a chain reaction formed. I caught Wood's eye just as the lamps above us began bursting, successfully burning my arms and legs in the process. Wood reached his hand out to me in the commotion and I took it. Together we rushed to pick Francis up from his armpits and were out of the main door faster than McGonagal can say 'detention'. I could hear screams and shouts coming from the inside, and the sound of an alarm that had just gone off. Security guards saw us running but had enough sense to move to the side and let us pass. We rushed through the empty streets as fast as we could, which carrying Francis' dead weight alongside, was no easy task.

We only took a rest when we were a good five streets away. Out of breath and with throbbing feet, I gave in and dropped my support for Francis' weight. Wood heaved as he tried not to lose both of their balance. He shot me an ungrateful look as I tried to regain my breathing. Francis muttered something before landing on his hands and knees; he moved quickly towards a nearby garbage can and proceeded to throw up.

Disgusting.

"Should we pull his hair back, you think?" Wood asked in between hard earned breaths.

"Hell no, let him choke for all I care," I shot back. Wood nodded and leaned against the brick wall, his chest moving up and down rather erratically. I got a good look at his face, and it looked like he had some nasty bruises and a few small burns.

"That was bloody brilliant, that was, what you did," he said after a minute or two, "Well placed jinx."

I nodded, "I know."

He managed to laugh, but then thought better of it and grabbed his side with his hand; his face scrunched up in pain. "Always so humble." I shrugged and walked next to Francis, to see how he was doing. Not that I cared, I just wanted to be gone from this area before someone detected the magic. "Do you think the jinx can be traced?" Wood echoed my own thoughts.

"Maybe," I said, "You _are_ underage; it might have triggered your tracer. Let us hope the Greek ministry is far too drunk or underpaid to actually care," the last thing I wanted to deal with on this vacation was a ministry investigation of any sort.

"You got burned, you know that?" Wood said looking at me closely. I lifted my hand to touch my cheek and felt a patch or three of burned skin. Fantastic. "There is dittany at the cottage, I can fix you up."

Nodding, I hit Francis in the shoulder to see if he was ready to move on but he only groaned before passing out. I rolled my eyes, just my luck. Taking a quick peek around me, I pulled out my wand and before Wood could complain, cast a quick spell to make Francis levitate ever so slightly; might as well be hanged for a dragon as an egg. I looked back at Wood who was staring at me with a raised eyebrow and a small grin. "If you want to carry him the muggle way, be my guest but I don't fancy a torn muscle on his account."

He raised his hands in defeat and moved to pull Francis' arm around his shoulder. I did the same, my wand hand coming to rest between Francis and Wood's abdomen so I could keep levitating my cousin without much ado.

We walked like this until we reached the cottage, a good twenty minutes later.

We had to be quiet so as not to wake up the adults or Gwen, so we dropped Francis on his bed without bothering- Wood simply made sure his face was pointing downwards so he wouldn't accidently choke on his own vomit. He then run to the bathroom to pick up the dittany and I settled myself on his bed. I looked down at my nice button down shirt to find it burned and soiled with sweat. Feeling incredibly dirty, I removed it and threw over my cousin's past out body, staying in only a white sleeveless undershirt.

Wood reappeared a moment later holding a small vial of essence of dittany. He sat at on the other side of the bed and motioned for me to move my legs forward. "You have a bad burn on your left ankle," he explained, "I noticed you were limping while we were walking. I want to treat that first so it won't leave unnecessary scarring."

Nodding, I crossed my arms and leaned back on the cold wall, but put my leg on his lap. He began to pour the dittany. A small hiss escaped my lips when the clear liquid touched the burn. "Sorry, it tends to do that."

I groaned my dissatisfaction as I let him continue to treat the rest of my leg. Apparently, casting a reducto curse on a lamp right above your head is not the smartest thing. Figures.

"Something tells me this night didn't go the way you wanted it to," he said while motioning for me to turn around so he could heal my arms.

_My life isn't going the way I wanted to_, I thought.

"This vacation is not going the way I want it to," I said instead trying not to let him know the dittany burned like hell. When he was done with my legs and arms, he motioned for me to move around so he could do my back.

"Sorry about the bloke, it seemed like you were enjoying his groping," he said, his breath tickling the back of my neck, giving me goose bumps. His hands were warm as they moved expertly around my shoulders. It was a very, very uncomfortable situation.

If he was sorry, I was a closet Hufflepuff. "Yes. But then you had to ruin it."  
He chuckled. "Let me see your face," I turned around and sat cross legged in front of him. He grabbed the dittany and poured it on a piece of cloth before dabbing at my cheek. His brown eyes were looking nowhere else but the red burn on my skin and I was momentarily distracted by the level of concentration this bloke could achieve. "I personally don't see what is so fun about hooking up with a complete stranger."  
I couldn't help it, I snorted. "Seriously? What about that blonde you were whispering sweet nothings to?"

"I didn't want it to go anywhere, the girl didn't speak English," he said with a shrug, "And I couldn't pronounce her name. How can you snog someone whose name you don't even know?"

"I knew his name," I said quickly, almost defensively. At least I think I did; I know he _told_ me his name.

His eyes moved upwards to give me a mischievous smile before refilling the cloth with dittany. "I just think that it is more fun to snog someone you know; someone with whom there is potential."  
"Let me remind you, Woody that your longest relationship lasted _three months_."

"It was Quidditch season, I had to focus," of course, Quidditch, the excuse of excuses. "Besides, not all of us can put up with complete gits like Higgs for years."

I snapped his hand away abruptly. He let out a small squeak, and I smirked in victory. "Someone is still sour."  
"Sod off, Wood," I spat jumping off the bed, "Don't talk about shit you know nothing about."

"You still have a burn near your right eye, want me to fix it?" Damn. I could walk away with my ego barely bruised but chance a life-long scar and a story I really didn't want to tell. Or I could suck it up, and let him clean it.

Sometimes, I really hate being so vain.

I sat back down and let him dab at the corner of my eye. "Way finish ruining night," I muttered under my breath. He stopped treating my eye and lifted my chin up, so that I was forced to look into his eyes. I pouted, trying to show him just how exasperated I was. He raised an eyebrow.

"I won't bring it up again. But you know, if he hurt you, Francis and I can always beat him up for you."

I laughed out loud. "Like you beat up that bloke from the bar? I think I'd rather rely on my shoes than your muscles, they are far more reliable."

He chuckled and flexed his right arm, giving me a nice view of his biceps. "With these babes? Please, Higgs is as good as mashed potato." Shaking my head in between chuckles, I got up and stretched. Wood's attention was diverted on applying dittany to his own burn wounds – which were far less than mine. Unfair

"Sarah?" he said as I was closing the door to the room.

"Yes?"  
"Why can't we always be like this?"

I furrowed my eyebrows, "What do you mean?"  
"You know," he said looking at me, "Like this: get along, laugh at each other's expense."

"Because you are a git, that's why."

He smiled one last time before turning his gaze back to his wounds. "Can't argue with that."

_Of course you can't._

Thankfully, my spell casting didn't merit government attention, and other than a knowing look from Aunt Adelaine the morning after, we were left unscathed from our little expedition. Of course, neither one of us was dimwitted enough to give clubbing another try so the rest of the two weeks in Greece passed in rather normalcy.

Meaning, it was back to its natural lousy self.

Wood's birthday came by at last towards the end of August, on our very last night in Greece. Mrs. Wood prepared a heavenly dinner and Aunt Adelaine had forced us (well, forced me) to attend and be, you know, _festive_. I still don't understand how those two ended up friends.

The dinner went without much comment, other than Mrs. Wood getting some deserved compliments on her food. None from me, but the fact that I secretly acknowledged her talent as a cook was enough of a compliment. As the sun started to set, Mrs. Wood and Aunt Adelaine cleaned the table with Gwen's help. I sat there, watching Francis lit a couple of Dr. Filibuster's fireworks to commemorate the occasion when Mrs. Wood walked in with a delicious looking chocolate cake in the shape of a lion's head.

"Don't forget to make a wish, Ollie!" said Mrs. Wood with a maniac glint in her eyes - at least now I knew who Wood inherited it from. The subject in question blushed terribly at being called 'Ollie' and muttered something incomprehensive.

"Asking for Gryffindor to win the cup is not a wish, Woody; that's what we call a miracle." I took a sip of my pitiful non-alcoholic drink. I was going to get so drunk when I got back to Slytherin; I had, after all, been relatively sober for some good three months. I received glares from all the members of the table, except for Aunt Adelaine and Wood himself, who simply smirked before blowing out the candles.

To commemorate our last night in Greece, the three of us decided to go for a long walk. Gwen wanted to come as well, but Aunt Adelaine declared she was too young. She had gone upstairs making sure to make as much noise as she could –had we had a cat, I was certain she would've kicked it. Francis walked with us until he saw some pretty pair of legs, and left to put up with Wood.

You really have got to love your family.

However, even I had to admit that when I shut off the voices in my head urging me to use the cruciatus curse, Wood wasn't that bad. He could be an annoying, single-minded, stubborn prick –not to mention a Gryffindor prince – but he did make my vacations a little more amusing than they would've otherwise been.

"So, are you coming?" his voice interrupted my not-so-grata train of thought. I stared at him, trying not to look like I hadn't been paying attention. "Swimming. I mean, you haven't put a single toe in that ocean in two months."  
I shrugged, "Did it ever occur to you that there might be a reason for that?"

"Actually yes," he said. The moonlight made his grin look deadlier than usual. He closed the distance between us, and lifted a strand of dark hair to whisper in my ear, "You are a bloody coward."  
A shiver ran though my spine, which I attributed to the cold, summer wind. "Am not."

"Then prove it," he said with that manic glint before he grabbed a hold of my hand and began pulling me in the general direction of the ocean.

"Hell no!" I tried to bury my feet in the sand to make it harder for him, but Wood just kept running and pulling me along.

He turned around and looked at me with his puppy eyes. "Just come!" I may be a cold-hearted individual, but those were hard to refuse. Wood pulled my wrist once more, there was no use fighting him, he had all the strength I lacked. I bit my lip trying to find a way out, failing, I allowed him to take me deeper into the water.

"Take this as your birthday present!"

He laughed, the water now reaching past my knees, "I thought the book on how to deal with puberty you gave me was my present."  
"Oh yes…"

Best present I ever bought.

Within seconds, however, I was surrounded by the water; the bleeding thing was _everywhere_. My hair was turning into a birds nest, and the water began reaching past my hips. And I was so, so afraid, I wanted nothing more but to turn around and never look back. I yelled and screamed at him that if I lived through this, I would kill him. He laughed at my childishness; and yet, he never, not even when a gigantic wave pulled us under, let go of my hand. And I found myself jumping the waves, and getting full of foam, and still wanting nothing more than to run away. But he kept a strong grip on my hand, and kept telling me to follow him.

I laughed like I had never laughed before.

And I felt incredibly, safe; like I never had before. Because nothing spells safety and trust, like someone holding your hand and refusing to be parted from you, even when the ocean does its worse.

When we left the water, we were laughing like idiots. I tried to push him back into the water, but he dodged and pushed me instead. Getting up, I began chasing him, ignoring the sand that had nested itself underneath my shorts. My mind was dead set on bringing the Gryffindor captain down – even if it meant dying in the process.

I reached him and, jumping with all my might, managed to tackle him down- or maybe he threw himself into the sand in an attempt at humoring me. With Gryffindors, you can never be too sure.

My victory was short lived, for he immediately grabbed me by the shoulders and flipped me over, causing my head to hit the ground. He grinned in victory as he landed on top of me. I knew it was a lost cause, but I had my pride to uphold! I used all the strength in my petite body to flip him over, and sneered at him when I succeeded. He soon attacked once more, this time, defeating me for good.

Bugger.

"I suggest – I suggest you surrender," he said, his voice cracking from lack of proper breathing. His forearms were resting next to my head, and water was trickling down from his wet locks and on my face. My own breath was coming short, and my heart was gorging in my throat. But what caused me to feel immensely discomfited, was the look in his chocolate brown eyes, and the sudden attractiveness of his half parted, chapped lips.

I grabbed a handful of sand and poured it on his head He closed his eyes and smiled in resignation. "Perhaps not," he mumbled, "I should've have known." I couldn't help but giggle. Let me tell you this: I'm no giggler. It is a rare occurrence when I actually, you know, _giggle_.

Slowly, he rolled onto his back, releasing me from the prison of his arms. I pushed myself up as hurriedly as I could, and began to try and pry sand away from my legs with the same feeling of urgency. I looked down at my black shirt, and thanked Merlin I hadn't worn white. Not that there was much to see anyway. Shrugging, I glanced over at Wood who was shaking his head like a wet dog. I quietly chortled.

We began the walk back to the cottage in silence, not even caring to find Francis. Not a nice, contemplative silence. This was the dictionary definition of awkward. There was a knot in my belly that was making me sick, and I secretly hoped it was due to the piece of jellyfish I think I accidently swallowed.

Merlin, I hate jellyfish.

* * *

**Author's note: **A big thanks to Clementina Prewett and Suni-Dlight for both of your lovelies reviews; and to bobafettt and sapurplemonkey for your favouring the story :)

Constructive criticism and reviews are much welcome and appreciated:)


	3. Insulted

******Disclaimer: **All recognizable characters/places are owned by J.K. Rowling and her publishers, and I do not claim ownership over them or their world. No copyright infringement is intended; this piece leads to no financial gain and it is written for the purpose of personal enjoyment and skill development. OC's and plot do belong to me.

* * *

**_Chapter 3 –_Insulted**

I was looking forward to returning to England about as much as I yearned to be run over by a herd of enraged Hippogriffs.

Although that was probably an exaggeration.

The most distasteful part of returning from an overseas vacation is really the travelling. You see, I've never been a big fan of portkeys or the floo network – I always land right on my arse and the floo leaves soot all over my robes. Unfortunately, I had to travel by _both_.

The adults took care of all our travel papers and documents and what not as magical law and international transportation officers did their job. I was a downright bored; they just poured over the parchments like hawks while we had nothing to do but tap out feet and count tiles. At least Greek officers were attractive. The whole mess would've been much more enjoyable if I had been allowed to flirt my way through it, but alas, I was stuck with my unbearable cousin and his birdbrained Scottish sidekick.

"I swear Francis, one more ridiculous joke about my legs, arse or any other body part you care to mention and I _will_ hex you all the to Argentina," I said through clenched teeth, my hands twisting the handle of my handbag in place of my cousin's fragile little neck. Aunt Adelaine had decreed I couldn't choke him to death.

Wood snickered from behind me while Francis pretended to be scared. Gwen observed everything with a smug smirk. "But Elizabeth, I felt it was my obligation to inform Mr. Hot Green Officer that –"

"Oh will you stuff it already?" I practically yelled and was rewarded with a renewed fit of hysterical laughs. They remind me of hyenas sometimes.

On second thought, going back to England seemed just lovely. At least I would be rid of these loons.

"Alright kids, grab the portkey we are about to go home!" Mrs. Wood said doing a little jump out of sheer enthusiasm that shook the extra flap on her body. I rolled my eyes, but was secretly pleased. In just a few minutes, I'd be cat free. Elbowing the two resident prats out of the way, I placed one hand on the old trainer which was our poor excuse for a portkey, and secured my handbag with the other. I couldn't help but scrunch my nose in disgust- it smelled.

Wood had enough time to laugh at me before we were uprooted from the grown and thrown into an ever spiraling vortex of time and space.

Maybe only space; I didn't know if portkeys could travel through time.

Francis' and Wood's shoulders were crashing against mine; we were speeding forwards with sufficient force for the skin on my cheeks to be pushed backwards by the wind. The spiraling colors made me dizzy; I closed my eyes and counted backwards from one hundred hoping it would all be over soon when –

"Eight fourteen from Athens, Greece," said a voice.

I fell. On my arse which was clad in white shorts. And I doubt the ministry cleans the floor thoroughly. Oh, bugger. Wood landed on his feet. He gave me a superior smile and offered me his hand, which I hit with mine as I scowled at him. He shrugged and went to help his mum get up instead. As quickly as I could, I jumped to my feet and began inspecting my behind. Thankfully, it wasn't too dirty; it would do until I was home and I could change. After a nice hot shower with no Francis imposing a time limit, that was.

With that thought to cheer me up, I began looking around the Portkey office to see if any of my décor suggestions had been taken into consideration. It was simply ghastly, last year I just _had_ to owl some clip outs from magazines and well written notes on how to improve the place. From the same old-fashioned and black tiles adorning the floor and walls, I could tell that no, all my hard work had gone unappreciated.

Maybe I shouldn't have called the head of the department a barmy color-blind giraffe.

They should at least put a plant in here, I thought, it would brighten the entire place up. I shook my head. The Ministry and their budget cuts… what would other wizards and witches think of us?

"There is a rather hideous necklace that was used as a Portkey from France, it'll match your eyes," said a voice from behind me, making me jump.

I rolled my eyes, "Sod off, Wood," I said pushed past him to go stand near Aunt Adelaine, who was going over our paperwork with Lanky Wizard In Charge. Francis and Wood kept making their supposedly brilliantly wicked remarks and I had to focus on my breathing so I wouldn't end up in Azkaban for rightful murder. By the time we were able to floo over, I was ready to snog British soil.

ooOooOooOoo

"How in Merlin's name do you have bigger breasts than me?"

Gwen threw me a devious smile over her shoulder as Madam Malkin clicked her tongue while adjusting her robes. I sat in a corner, several bags next to me, and Witch Weekly opened up on top of my lap. I was also eyeing my thirteen year old cousin who already had the robes altered in the bosom area _thrice_ with malice. Life could sometimes be so unfair.

I looked down at the black skirt I was wearing, a small smile creeping into my lips. Well, at least I got the long legs.

Gwen quickly tried on another school robe while I flipped the pages of my magazine, my heels tapping softly on the stone flood. Although, if Madam Malkin's twitch on her left eye every time I actually tapped the floor was any indication, I wasn't being soft at all.

Oh well.

"What else do we have to buy before we can get out of this here?" I asked while skipping an entire three-page article on magical nail polish and how their magical weight lost properties. Preposterous, I tell you. Some of the garbage that is published in this magazine make the Quibbler equal literature. Now if I were the chief editor…

"Books," came Gwen's muffled voice as she removed her robe and handed it over to Madam Malkin, she then straightened her bright blue sundress before she continued. "But I was hoping we could stop for ice-cream first; I really need a break."

I nodded. "Of course, all those adjustments due to your increasing chest must have left you _exhausted_," I filled another page to find out how bubotuber pus with lavender oil can make for a brilliant aphrodisiac. "Complete and utter crap," I muttered under my breath.

Gwen paid for her robes and I charmed all our purchases to fit into my tiny white dragonskin leather handbag. The wonders of being seventeen, I thought with a smile. Chatting lightly about this and that, we made our way to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour for some non-diet friendly snacks.

After we ordered (and I got stuck paying), we settled on a small, round table which sported a hideous yellow and white umbrella. At least it was on the balcony.

"What did you think of this year's vacation?" Gwen asked in between pecan butter and chocolate chip ice-cream spoonful's. "I thought it was much nicer than last year's trip in Peru. No murder attempts at least."

I nodded, agreeing but for different reasons. A bloody llama had bitten my nose in Peru.

"I have to say though, I was surprised by how little you and Oliver bickered this time around. It almost felt like you were… how do you say? Bonding?" she continued. "Perhaps you've finally come to the realization that he is smoldering hot and want nothing more than to shag him senseless."

I rolled my eyes, not at all alarmed at my thirteen year old cousin's insinuations. I was one of the few people who knew Gwendolyn Oakley's true self. She was the first hatstand in thirty years, and while most people thought the Sorting Hat was having a hard time deciding between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, I knew all the fuss had been about the hat wanting to place her in Slytherin.

Gwen confessed to me that she thought people would be more susceptible to her charms if she was placed in Ravenclaw. You know, birdies don't have the same stigma us snakes do. Which I thought was deliciously cunning on her part and all the more reason she should be in my house.

"That may be your dream fantasy, Gwen, but not mine. Besides," I added after taking a break for another spoonful of decadent ice-cream, "His love for you must have blinded him to my female charms. After all, I am not the one here who is toppling over with the weight of her chest."

Gwen rolled her eyes and twisted her spoon around to grab the hard-to-get ice-cream parts. "Yes of course, Oliver is a pedophile. Must be all that muscle mass interrupting proper blood flow to his brain," we both chuckled like brainless school girls, but I could see a small blush appear on her cheeks regardless. "And you should really stop it with the breasts comments, they are getting old."

"Whatever you say," I said shrugging.

"Besides, he told me he has his little Gryffindor heart set on someone else," she said with a perverted wiggle of her eyebrows.

"Keep dreaming, kid."

Gwen laughed, covering her mouth with her hand when she started snorting. "I wasn't talking about you, but it is rather nice to know you are a self-absorbed cow."

I bowed my head mockingly. "Thank you, I do try." We finished our ice-cream in silence for a few moments, savoring the peace and quiet that was Diagon Alley three days before the start of term. "Who is he after then?"

Gwen raised her eyebrows as I finished licking the remains of my dessert from my spoon. She chose not to speak what was on her mind, and thankfully, answered the question. "Some Gryffindor. Sorry, but I promised I wouldn't tell. You should find out soon enough, though," she added when I opened my mouth to protest. "He said he doesn't want to waste another year."

I nodded seemingly absentminded and got up from my chair, and pushed it inwards back towards the table. Gwen had given me a nice (if slightly incomplete) piece of gossip and now all I had to do was figure out a way to use it before it became too old. "Flourish and Blotts then?"

She nodded and with one last tingling sound of the entrance bell on top of the door, we left my second favorite store behind us, and got trapped in the chaos of last minute shopping. I sighed, my eyes quickly darting towards my choice of footwear; I really need to rethink my priorities if I think stilettos are a sensible choice for back to school shopping.

Gwen grabbed my arm and locked it with hers so we wouldn't get separated in the ocean of crazy shoppers. Slowly, but rather painfully at the toes, we inched ever closer to our final destination. Flourish and Blotts was located almost at the end of Diagon Alley where the unusually (and impractically) narrow street opened up into a medium sized square, complete with one bench to sit on which was currently empty. Gringotts loomed ominously ahead of us, and little streets converged with Diagon Alley at this point, giving the square (which was actually a circle) the appearance of a spider with quite a few legs.

I could also see a congregation much darker than Knockturn Alley just off the main street.

Adrian Pucey and Marcus Flint were having a heated discussion in one of the intersections. Reaching into my handbag, I grabbed some gold and pushed some it and a piece of wrinkled parchment on Gwen's hands. She took the opportunity to glare at me. "Of course, use me as your little lackey why don't you?"

"If you insist, I'll meet you at that bench in twenty," I said, disentangling myself from her, and giving her a small wave as I left her standing in front of the bookstore. I heard her yell a few profanities my way which would have made her mother's hair stand on end.

Or maybe they'll make her proud, who knows? Gwendolyn can get creative with her insults.

"Pucey, Flint," I greeted the two blokes who were casually leaning against some shop's wall.

"Elizabeth Montieth, looking as sassy as ever," Flint said, his eyes moving up and down my body in a way that I'm sure should be illegal. I glared at him.

"Good morning, Lisa," Adrian said placidly. I flashed him a quick grin which he returned with a wink. Flirting with Adrian came as easily as breathing; pity we were third cousins twice removed on my mother's side. It made for anything other than harmless flirting seem like incest. He was a very good looking bloke, and no amount of diluted shared blood could wipe that away. He had deep blue eyes that had a constant glazed look about them, as if he were always gone to la-la-land. His dark hair cupped his heart shaped face, making him seem like a sheep instead of the wolf that I knew lurked underneath. Once I got close enough to see them both clearly, I noticed that Adrian's eyes had dark bags beneath them. He must have eaten peanuts, he's deathly allergic to them.

I shrugged and turned my attention to the slightly shorter, but decidedly burlier, bloke. "Can't say I'm surprise to see you here, Flinty; failed how many NEWT's again? I have to say I lost count."

Marcus Flint, Slytherin Quidditch Captain, graced me with one of his very notorious sneers. The ones that made him look like a troll. Except that nowadays, whenever Flint sneered at some girl, they usually giggled instead of vomited. Terrence Higgs had jinxed him two years ago when he got replaced as seeker, earning himself a month worth of detention and leaving Flint with straighter teeth.

Even the best of plans don't always go the way you want them to, I suppose.

Flint loomed over me, his coarse black hair was cut short military stile, widening his sneer. "And I can't say I'm surprise that you are still such an old hag, Montieth." I pouted for effect, battling my eyelashes at him. "Perhaps if you opened your legs more often you'd stop being such a cow. I could offer my services for the good of the community-," disgusted, I inched closer towards Adrian. It is always a good idea to have a shield when you are about to poke a sleeping dragon. Except, I didn't need a shield.

Honestly, Gryffindor's chivalry can be so excruciatingly _simpleminded_.

"That's not the way you treat a lady, you big brute," Wood had come from behind us, having just excited the shop Adrian was leaning against. I rolled my eyes, counting the seconds it would take for Flint to draw out his wand or fist.

He surprised me by doing neither. "Well, well, well; if it isn't our favorite little kitty," Flint licked his teeth with his tongue, his eyes never leaving Wood. Beside me Adrian chuckled. "Planning on winning a Quidditch cup before you graduate?"

"Three sickles Flint wins," Adrian whispered so only I could hear. One quick look at both captains said it all.

"Bugger no, I happen to enjoy having gold."

"Sickles are made of bronze, Liz."

I elbowed Adrian just as Wood spoke. "Planning on graduating, Flint?"

"Is that supposed to hurt, Woody?" Flint said. "You think you touched a sore spot?" Nearby laughter made me jump. I looked past Flint's menacing figure to see the two Slytherin beaters –Lucian Bole and Peregrin Derrick- walking towards us. They looked like two gorillas holding bags full of bananas.

"So what is the strategy this year, Flint? Newer brooms, bigger idiots?" he asked pointing at the approaching beaters with his head. Adrian snickered beside me and I bit my lip trying not to laugh out loud either.

"Funny Wood. I could say the same of you ruddy team."

Wood raised an eyebrow, a cocky smile adorning his lips, "At least my seeker can catch the snitch. I doubt any of your players would be able to win a match even on firebolts. Speed can compensate for talent only so much," Flint moved before Wood had finished talking, but I still winced when he punched the Scottish prat straight on the nose. Adrian tensed and grabbed a hold of my arm and, for a brief moment, I thought he meant to protect me if things go out of hand, but knowing him he'd sacrifice me before endangering himself.

Bloody Slytherins.

"Now that's very mature, Flinty; you could at least wait until he's on a broom and fifty feet up. I hear a fall that high up usually doubles the chances of a concussion," I said, digging my nails into Adrian's arm. He let go of my arm and settled for asking me if I was ruddy insane.

There goes my mouth.

Flint hissed. "No one asked for your opinion, Montieth."

I shrugged; in for an egg as for a dragon I suppose. "I just figured I should let you know that tidbit of information, seeing how I am the intelligent one in the group and all," I flipped my hair over my shoulder and put both hands on my hips for emphasis. What I was playing at, I had no clue.

Flint smirked and walked slowly towards me, standing but a few inches away from my face. It took all the Slytherin in me not to flinch backwards, run and never look back. Before Flint could even think of a retort, Wood spoke up.

"Don't you dare touch her Flint; your fight is with me," Flint turned around abruptly and in two quick steps had grabbed Wood by the collar of his shirt and pressed his wand against his throat. The beaters moved to stand on either side of Wood, their fists curled menacingly.

Oh dear.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't hex the living life out of him, Montieth. And make it a good one, I am feeling merciful today."

I stared straight into Flint's eyes with my own, refusing to show weakness. Slytherins usually reacted in similar fashions, and it made predicting someone else's behavior somewhat easier. I knew just what to do to tick Flint off. I flipped my hair once again, put a hand on my waist and waved my other hand at him disdainfully. "You know what Flinty? Your petty little show is getting bored. I think I'm going to go count pebbles on the other side of the street," and walked away.

I had only enough time to hear Adrian's quiet chuckle and Flint mutter 'women' before throwing another punch in Wood's stomach or jaw. It sounded like he hit bones, so probably the later. I walked all the way to the bookstore, keeping a steady pace and forcing myself not to look back. I knew Flint wouldn't kill Wood, not in broad daylight at least. I also knew that he wouldn't do something unless he could get a kick out of it.

So I made a bee line towards the empty bench and sat there. Only then did I risk a glance backwards, under the pretense of tying my long hair up. The Slytherin's were gone, and Wood was massaging his jaw. Good thing his mum wasn't around, she'd have a heart attack if she saw how her precious little boy looked like. I vacillated between going over and helping him, but thought it was best if I didn't –besides my feet really hurt. Soon enough, and right on time, I heard him calling for me.

"Sarah," he said taking a seat next to me. He was clutching his nose with his hand, the front of his white shirt stained with fresh blood. I cringed. "Thanks for your help, I honestly owe you one."

"You are such a baby."  
"And you are such a bitch."

I jerked my head and looked at him, puzzled and vaguely outraged. "What did you just call me?" I was used to being called that. In fact, in fourth year Adrian actually began giving me a knut every time someone called me that. I had enough for a beautiful pair of shoes by the end of the first term. But from Wood? All I usually got from him were lesser insults; somehow he seemed to believe I had enough human in me to be salvable.

"Don't act like you are surprised, Sarah," he said with a glare. "I was doing the right thing and then you go and give Flint ideas on how to murder me."

"Give you a concussion," I corrected.

He rolled his eyes.

I let out a frustrated breath, letting my head fall backwards. "What do you want, an apology?"

"How about you try some manners? It would make for a nice change."

I grunted and closed my eyes. I could hear him playing with his broken nose and it made me want to throw up. I bit my lip, feeling that horrible wave of … (I think they call it guilt, but I might be mistaken) flooding over me. "Show me your face," I said while fishing my wand.

He watched me eerily, his hand still placed protectively over his nose. "Why?"

"You wanted some civility, I'll show you some civility, now let me see your nose," I grabbed his hand and forcefully pushed it away. To give him some credit, he didn't even flinch. "Episkey," I said, pointing at his nose with my wand. A cracking noise told me the bones that successfully rearranged themselves. It still looked swollen, but there wasn't much more I was able or willing to do.

Wood touched his nose, a look of awe on his face. "How did you-?"

"If you paid attention to class instead of doodling Quidditch plays on your parchment you would know that spell too." He rolled his eyes and proceeded to clean his shirt with his own wand. At least he had paid attention in that class, I thought ruefully. "For the record, I _was_ trying to help you out there even if your tiny little brain couldn't see it."

"Can't you ever just say you're sorry?" I shook my head. He sighed. "I should take the nose fixing as your apology, correct?"

I nodded. "And don't get used to that either."

"You're impossible to deal with, you know?" he said with a small smile.

"I must've missed a couple of crucial social lessons. Although, just so you know, that bitch comment? It stung."

"Really?" how endearing, he sounded concerned.

I snorted. "Of course not, don't be a pinhead."

"Lisa! Oliver?" I looked up to see Gwendolyn carrying three humongous bags full of books – one of which was actually moving. Wood, being the chivalrous git he is, was instantly on his feet, wordlessly taking Gwen's bags from her. Doesn't he ever get tired of it? "What are you doing here?"

"Finishing up my shopping; bumped into your dear cousin," he shot me a cocky grin to which I replied with a small sneer.

"What happened to your nose?"

He shrugged. "Long story. Are you done? How about I buy you girls some ice-cream?"

Although, chivalry does buy you ice-cream.

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**Author's note:** no reviews for chapter 2 :( Hopefully this chapter will inspire people to let me know what they think of the story and where its going (it's going to be a long one though!) :D

I did want to thank callmemisstayla for her lovely review in ch1 which I forgot to before. And a big thanks and hug to all the beautiful people who favored or are following this story. It really means the world to me when I get some feedback :)

Also, on my HPFF (which is a tad behind in chapter updates) there are gif images attached to each chapter (I wish would do that), in case you're wondering how I visualize the characters.

Let me know what you're thinking by clicking that wonderful 'review' button and typing just a few words ;)


	4. Beseeched

**********Disclaimer: **All recognizable characters/places are owned by J.K. Rowling and her publishers, and I do not claim ownership over them or their world. No copyright infringement is intended; this piece leads to no financial gain and it is written for the purpose of personal enjoyment and skill development. OC's and plot do belong to me.

* * *

**Chapter 4 – Beseeched**

Platform nine and three quarters was the usual chaos. Parents of nervous-looking first years were busy fussing over their children. Some mothers were openly crying, while the fathers were getting an awful lot of eyelashes into their eyes. You could always easily distinguish the pureblood Slytherin families in this kind of scenario: they are the ones that look as stoic as a marble statue.

Like mine.

"Now Elizabeth, do _try_ to behave this year. I don't want to get any owls saying that you hexed someone or-" the rest of Aunt Adelaine's message went unheard. I had it memorized; in fact, last year I even wrote it out and had her read it out loud off of a piece of parchment. It usually went along the lines of "don't get pregnant and don't get sent to Azkaban" in that order of priorities.

My father, who had decided to see me off for the second time in seven years, put his hand on my shoulder and steered me away from Aunt Adelaine and Gwendolyn. Francis had been dismissed a while ago and was in charge of securing our trunks. I tried to keep my face emotionless as we began walking down the side of the railroad trucks, my father leading the way with his hand on my shoulder. It felt wrong – almost like it didn't belong there.

"I suppose etiquette dictates that I tell you not to hex anyone and to behave accordingly to you status as prefect," he looked around to see if anyone was near enough to eavesdrop before continuing. "But if it is a mudblood, ensuring you don't get caught would be sufficient."

I bit the inside of my cheeks, my eyes focused on our moving shadows on the ground. I nodded, knowing that it was what he expected me to do. "Very well," he continued, releasing my shoulder at last and stopping only when we reached the front of the train – the prefect's compartment. "How fares young Mr. Higgs? Still being a proper gentleman, I suppose?

Yes, a conniving, lying, cheating little bastard who by the way, never behaved like a proper gentleman if you catch my drift – I wanted to scream. Instead, I had to content myself by a simple half-lie.

I shrugged. "We haven't spoken much over the summer." I also burned the last piece of correspondence I received from him and would not hesitate to castrate him should the opportunity present itself.

My father nodded momentarily distracted by all the feathers and pieces of cat fur that were lazily floating in mid-air. "As you well now, Elizabeth, once you graduate there are certain… expectations," he said almost hesitantly, his blue eyes meeting mine for the first time in our little weird conversation. "However, if your friendship with young Mr. Higgs proceeds suitably, proper arrangements can be made in due time without much hassle. He does come from a respected line, after all," the corners of his lips turned upwards into a sad parody of a smile. "As an adult, I expect you to understand the important nature of these matters."

"Must, father?"

He stared at me for a long moment, his blue eyes cool and hard. A knot formed in my throat and I was pretty sure that if I as much as opened my mouth, my entire breakfast will fall out. "I promised your mother I would never force you, Elizabeth. As long as the man you choose is befitting I do not have preference." His gaze wondered over his shoulder, and I followed it. Aunt Adelaine was fussing over Gwen's muggle jumper and a few steps behind Mr. Malfoy was sneering. Aunt Adelaine had married pureblood, just not _our_ type of pureblood. "I can always arrange if you desire me to… but I trust your judgment."

I nodded, feeling my knot move down to my bowel. I fingered the Slytherin Prefect badge I had already pinned to my school robes.

An eerie smile flickered on his lips again before he dismissed me. "Have a good term then, Elizabeth. I'll expect you home for Christmas." He nodded in my direction one last time before walking over to where a few of his 'friends' were congregated. I restrained myself from sticking my tongue out at him.

Slytherin's don't have friends, I reminded myself as I entered the train. Friendship implies trust, and trustfulness and trustworthiness are not Slytherin-compatible.

I tried not to let that bother me too much. After all, I had better things to think about.

Pushing my treacherous thoughts to the back of my mind where they can marinate in peace, I opened the prefect's compartment door and stepped inside. Prefects from all four houses were already sitting in their segregated groups, possibly catching up on summer's worthy gossip or discussing Sirius Black. Terrence popped out from the rest like a dragon in uniform in the middle of a Quidditch field.

This was going to be a long, dreadful trip.

A rather pompous drawl catapulted me from my ghastly thoughts and into the fifth circle of hell. "Montieth, glad you could join us," groaning, I took in the badge that was placed so perfectly on his lanky chest and second hand robes that I could have sworn he measured it with a ruler. Although he didn't notice it no longer said "Head Boy."

Sometimes, you have to give those twins some credit.

"Weasley," I muttered with as much contempt as I could into one single word. A pretty dark haired girl waved at me from behind the resident fool; she pinched his arm the second he opened his mouth.

"Hello Elizabeth, it is so nice to see you. Did you have a good summer?" she said with the most sincere smile I had seen since Wood decided it would be a good idea to go swimming. I controlled the urge to hit my head against the compartment wall. What was it with my thoughts not marinating in the depths of my subconscious, never to be perused again until they resurfaced in a creepy dream or a bout of murdering rage?

"I hope Percy isn't giving you a hard time," she shot her boyfriend a meaningful look. He recoiled. I snickered.

"Not yet he hasn't; then again he's only said three words," Penelope covered her mouth to stifle her laugh. What a nice girl like her did with a stuck up, morose, and witless git was beyond logic.

She whispered something in his ear that made his face redden like a ripe tomato. I sneered as I leaned in to whisper not too subtly into his ear. "You really should consider a new hair color, Weasley, it clashes with you complexion every time you as much as think about sex." I walked away before he could respond mentally high-fiving myself.

How I missed Weasley-the-third-abuse!

A sixth year Slytherin prefect, whose name always seemed to escape me for some reason – I called him giraffe, he had a hilariously long neck- nudged Terrence in the ribs the moment I approached my fellow snakes. The lad in question jumped to his feet and quickly closed the few feet of distance between us. He sported his cashmere, Casanova sexy smile that always gave me a wonderful look at all of his white pearls.

When he said my name, in the same baritone tone that made my legs resemble jelly slugs, my legs turned to figurative jelly slugs. And I ran out of metaphors. "It's nice to see you, Lisa," he continued slowly, as one would approach an incoming herd of angry hippogriffs.

I was proud to see a tint of fear in his gorgeous green eyes.

Treacherous, treacherous thoughts.

"Wish I could say the same, but you know me, I'm no liar," take that arshole! I threw him a small sneer as I brushed my shoulder past his on my way to sit with the sixth and fifth year prefect girls. I saw him stare at me from the corner of my eyes.

Elizabeth:1; Terrence:0.

The sixth year prefect, Margaret something something, kept me entertained with the latest gossip, Sirius Black's most likely whereabouts, and the disastrous final match of the Quidditch league in which the Harpies lost to the Tornadoes. That had been a bollocks match, the Tornadoes bought the referee.

When Weasley and the new head girl (a Hufflepuff, surprisingly) began the meeting, I couldn't keep myself focused enough not to stare on and off at Terrence from below my eyelashes. Thank Merlin my fringe covered my eyes.

He was leaning forward, the perfect image of an interested prefect. I knew he was sleeping with his eyes open, however. He had that little twitch on his eyes he always got when he slept through Binn's class without appearing to. His well-defined muscles were visible (and tempting) from his tight, white shirt; his tie was carelessly undone and his sand-blond hair was masterfully messy.

I sighed, closing my eyes for a moment and willing my infatuations to go burn in hell. Terrence was handsome and perfect in almost every way: he was witty, he was pureblood, he was rich and he knew how to play chess (unlike Wood). He was also a sodding charmer and a bleeding good snogger. Basically, he fit the bill for my perfect prince charming if it wasn't for the fact that he was utterly psychopathic.

But weren't we all?

I opened my eyes to find him staring at me, and I scowled when he blew me a kiss. His hands went for his heart in mock agony, as he wiped a non-existent tear from his eyes. If Terrence had ever cried, other than during a childhood tantrum, I would get a flabberworm as a pet and call it Mr. Finnicky. Just because.

I flipped him off before pretending to return my attention to Weasley. Like that was going to happen.

Then again, I thought while biting the corner of my lower lip, if I have to marry a bleeding bastard, doesn't the devil you already know have the home-team advantage?

I sighed, leaning into the seat. Life was hard.

The meeting ended sometime around lunch, and I had successfully not listened to a single word that left Weasley's chapped lips. I took the parchment with the new password and walked out of the compartment without saying a word to anyone. I did, however, give Penelope a small wave – the girl was the reason I hadn't failed arithmancy as of yet.

I had walked past two compartments when a hand grabbed a hold of my wrist and pushed me inside a newly opened room. I rolled my eyes, having expected Terrence to pull some stunt like this all along. Merlin, he was predictable. I stared at my nails while he threatened a bunch of second years that were playing exploding snap to leave or be hexed – needless to say, they obeyed.

He closed the door behind him and locked it shut. I leaned against the wall, my arms crossed over my chest and a nice looking scowl on my face. Terrence stood before me, just a feet or two away. His face was serious, lacking any visible sign of his usual mischievousness.

"We need to talk," he said coming to stand in front of me; I leaned casually against the wall, lifting my chin up. Even in three inch stilettos, the bastard was a good half foot taller than me. Maybe it was time to upgrade to _four inches…_

Focus now Elizabeth; shoe shop later.

"Funny," I said licking my lips, "That is exactly the phrase _I_ used when I dumped _you_."

He gave me a crooked grin. "It so happens that our little break up is exactly what I want to talk about, Liz." His fingers brushed my cheek softly, seemingly not even touching it. It took all the Slytherin in me to suppress a shiver that had nothing to do with the coldness of the wall. "You see, I was hoping we could undo that. I miss you."

I lifted an eyebrow; my throat was dry and I would have died if he could tell how much those words stung. "You should have thought about missing me _before_, don't you think? You know I am not forgiving."

He sighed, his head lowering momentarily before he looked me in the eyes again. His green eyes were hungry. "I know I screwed up – majorly," he quickly added. "But I want to make things right. No, scratch that, I _need_ to make things right."

I scoffed. "Need? That is a rather lofty verb, don't you think?" Terrence's body came closer to me the more I tried (unsuccessfully) to melt into the wall. My stomach felt like a bunch of gryndilows were biting it mercilessly "What exactly do you need me for, Terrence? Is your family forcing you to marry before you can get your greedy little hands on your inheritance?" like mine is? I wanted to ask – but perhaps, I didn't want an honest answer.

Honesty is a dangerous thing. You are almost always better off with a well-crafted lie.

Cold anger flashed through his eyes like a lightning bolt during a summer thunderstorm –it was gone as quickly as it started, but it sure as hell made its mark. "That's not all of it," he said lowering his voice and nearing his face to mine so our noses almost touched and I had to struggle to keep his face in focus. "You know very well that what we had went beyond just what is expected of us, Lisa. We learned to care for each other."

I snorted. "Just what every girl wants to hear, Terrence. _We care for each other._" He bridged the gap between us by placing his soft, ever-kissable lips on mine; he left them there, tempting and oh-so-annoying, over mine for the longest of moments before moving back. I held my breath throughout, and I would be damned if I would let him know that despite it all, a part of me still fancied him.

"You have got to be an idiot to think I'm going to take you back just like that."

"Of course not," he said with a smile. His right hand reached forward to tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. "I'm expecting you to put me through hell and back before you even consider forgiving me. Just-"he put a finger to my lips to silence my retort. "Just know that I really am-sorry." He planted another butterfly kiss on the corner of my lips before moving away from me and opening the door.

I sent my angriest glare his way before ducking beneath his arm and crossing the threshold. "Liz," he whispered in my ear as I walked past him. "I'll wait whatever long it takes. You are worth waiting for."

* * *

The moment I stepped into the Slytherin seventh year compartment all eyes turned towards me – and my blond companion. Flint was discussing Quidditch tactics with his team (even Malfoy, if you could believe it). Adrian was doing a very bad job of paying attention, although he did send a questioning glance my way which I shrugged.

The two other girls in my year, cousins, Darlene and Willow Blackthorn were holding court with some of the younger girls – mostly fifth and sixth years, although there was a third year in there too for good measure. Willow gave me a small wave for way of a greeting before returning to her conversation. Her head snapped back towards the door a second later, her short auburn hair bouncing around and a look of confusion on her pretty features. I ignored her.

Darlene, all six feet of pure dyed-blond evil didn't even look up. Her shrill laugh echoed in the small compartment making my ears hurt. I rolled my eyes as I took a seat near Willow, and far away from Terrence. Darlene was going on about some nose job or something. When she noticed my presence, she threw me a nasty sneer which I kindly returned.

"Well, well, well, snow white gained some color this year. Got bored of the banshee costume, Montieth?"

"Indeed I did," I said grabbing a copy of Witch Weekly that was lying nearby. "Although I have to say I really do like what you've done to your hair – it makes you look beautiful, almost a pregnant kangaroo with a wig. Did you lose weight?"

Darlene scoffed and returned to her court. Willow shot me an amused glance.

Elizabeth 1; Darlene 0. Perhaps this day wouldn't turn out so bad after all – I had two points in my favour.

Time went by quite slowly from then on, most of the younger kids had been kicked out or left voluntarily (one of the girls in tears) and by mid-afternoon. Darlene and I kept sharing nasty glares and sneers over our shoulders once in a while before returning to our own business. When the trolley lady came by, I coaxed Terrence into buying me ridiculous amounts of candy –which he did. He also ended up having to buy food for the rest of the compartment, much to my amusement.

Flint never ceased drilling Quidditch tactics and statistics into his chaser and ex-seeker. Terrence kept throwing small smiles my way, while Adrian make puking faces behind him which made me laugh. He still had slight dark bags under his eyes, not as prominent as they were in Diagon Alley, but enough to make his blue eyes look hollow.

Determined to figure out what was going on (it wasn't like Adrian to walk around disheveled), I left my magazine on the seat and scooped over to sit next to Adrian and poke him in the ribs –gently. He rolled his eyes. "Bored, are you?"  
"How did you know?" I said giving him my best fake-innocent look ever.

"You always act like a three year old high on sugar when you are." I shrugged and grabbed a piece of his dark hair between my fingers. What can I say? The bloke knows me.

"You know, you'd look far more dashing without those ghastly dark circles," I pretended to flirt. He rolled his eyes, again, and went back to his Quidditch conversation. I was about to come up with an undoubtedly witty comment when the lights flickered and went off. Seconds later the train stopped with enough strength to make Darlene fall off flat on her ass.

I laughed. No one moved to help her.

"What was that? We can't be at Hogwarts yet," Flint said.

"You'd know how long the trip takes, don't you Flint? You've done it _how many times_ now?" I snickered before turning around to look through the window. Adrian was already staring at the rain and ice covered piece of glass. A feeling very similar to dread crawled its way into my stomach.

"Dementors," Adrian whispered; his blue eyes finding mine. I could see my own terrified reflection in them. "Someone lock the door."

Willow and Terrence jumped to their feet at once. She charmed the door shut while Terrence leaned his body weight against it. I scoffed at his stupid attempt at gallantry.

"Why would there be dementors aboard the train?" Darlene asked, grabbing a hold of Willow's right arm and forcefully pushing her down on the seat.

"They must be searching for Sirius Black you big twit. Now shut up, I'm trying to listen." Flint said. He had his wand out as did Adrian. I quickly removed mine from the inside of my robe's pocket and held unto it as if it were a lifetime which, in a way, it was.

We waited.

Adrian's left hand walked across my lap and grabbed my left hand; I squeezed his sweaty palm all the while feeling like my heart was going to explode. My eyes found Terrence's; he looked petrified, but had enough coherence to nod in acknowledgment.

We heard the rustle of robes outside the compartment. Terrence froze; his wand fell to the ground, making a dead sound. No one moved; only our breath and Willow's small, quiet whimpers could break the dense silence. I buried my head on the crook on Adrian's shoulder and closed my eyes tightly. My wand hand was shaking.

I could hear rather than see the chandelier as it swayed precariously above our heads. My body felt numb and cold; Adrian's head landed on top of mine and I was grateful for the small source of heat.

Images and sounds, memories I wished would vanish in a wisp of smoke, kept plaguing my mind like flies on a corpse. My throat constricted as I held in a sob. Beside me, Adrian felt frighteningly cold. Memories can do that to you –consume you, drain you, defeat you. There is nothing more dangerous that your own unchecked demons, your own forgotten little horrors.

Faster than it started, it ended. The lights began to flicker again, only to become fully alight seconds later. The temperature began to rise, although my skin was still stone cold and full of goose bumps. For a long moment no one moved. I was acutely aware of Adrian's sweaty hand grasping mine, the rise and fall of his chest, and the silky feel of his hair against my forehead. I clung to those details.

Hope is in the details.

We all stood there, alone yet together, inside our own worlds trying to tame the beast that you could never let of the leash. I took a moment to relish the sweet irony of it. We were all always at each other's throats, trying to outsmart the other and usurp their power. We never let our guards down, we never considered each other friends. And yet, the only people who could understand what it feels to have your personal traumas thrown into your face were sitting around me.

No one else could understand a Slytherin's nightmares like another Slytherin.

But we never talked.

* * *

**Author's notes:** Wow 4 reviews for last chapter! You guys are awesome. Thanks a ton to An Artists Account, Luella Rosier, MyNotSoNormalLife, Guest, and everyone who favourite/Follows this story. Keep them coming ;)

No Oliver in this one :( we'll see him again next chapter,but I needed to introduce you to the rest of the green and silver cast. What do you think of Terrence? I always figured since Oliver was surprised in the second book that Flint got a new seeker, Terrence must still be in the picture somewhere.

Reviews/favourites/follows light up my day :)


	5. Flirted

**Disclaimer**: All recognizable characters/places are owned by J.K. Rowling and her publishers, and I do not claim ownership over them or their world. No copyright infringement is intended; this piece leads to no financial gain and it is written for the purpose of personal enjoyment and skill development. OC's and plot do belong to me.

* * *

Chapter 5- Flirted

Dumbledore couldn't shut up fast enough. I can say I wasn't having a good evening. First, the dementor attack. I mean what the bloody hell? Secondly: Darlene, shrieking and wailing like a cat in heat – and that is perhaps the most accurate simile I've ever some up with. But now, _Dumbledore_, had to speak for fifteen straight minutes while I sat hungry, soaked, and in a very bad mood waiting for food to appear.

Next to me Adrian was trying his best not to fall asleep on my shoulder, while the rest of Slytherin table laughed covert laughs at Draco Malfoy's theatrics. I sincerely hoped the kid stuck to the family business; he had no future in the acting arts.

I sighed and buried my head in my hands the moment the Sorting Hat, who had replaced our beloved headmaster, sung the qualities and whatnots of the four houses.

_Boring_!

As soon as food appeared I dug in with the enthusiasm of a thirteen year old boy (and with about the same amount of grace, no doubt). All around me people were gossiping, chatting, or plain old plotting – but I was eating and very content at that. Only after I had swallowed nearly three quarters of food I looked up to see Terrence staring at me.

"What?" I asked and drank some pumpkin juice to help me with that last bit of roast beef, "Have you never seen a girl eat before?"

He laughed and dug his knife into his meat, "Not like that, no. Are you sure you should be calling yourself a girl? I thought Flint was the only one with troll blood."

I glared at him and threw him a bit of potato. He dodged it easily, and winked at me. I hid my face in my food once again and didn't resurface until the feast was over. Thanking the unspoken hierarchy, it was the fifth year's prefect's job to escort the little ones to the common room. I was thankful because by the time we were dismissed, I was had a food baby, an ex-beau who was trying too desperately to get back on my good side, and a forlorn sidekick who hadn't spoken a word since we left the train.

I looked up to the enchanted ceiling as we walked out of the Great Hall and wondered if first days back had always seemed so gloomy.

Then I bumped into someone – not a big surprise considering I wasn't looking where I put my feet. Nevertheless, I looked up to yell at whoever was slow enough to cause me to walk into them when I felt all my food rush up to my throat. Bugger, bollocks and bullshit!

Wood patted my head with that hideous hand of his, an amused smile on his lips. "Are you alright there? Did bad dementor make you sleepy?"

I would've been sleepy if he hadn't made me feel like a three year old but oh well. "Move," I said low and even, but I'm sure I probably sounded like an angry chihuaha.

Terrence was right behind me in a split second. "Watch where you are walking Wood. Gryffindor can't afford to start the term with minus points, can it?"

Wood shrugged after mouthing 'seriously?' my way. "Last time I checked we've been doing pretty well these past couple of years. When was the last time Slytherin won the cup? Oh yes, I remember now: it's irrelevant."

Terrence took a step closer, encircling me with one arm and squishing me between his chest and Wood's. All in all, not a particularly discomforting place to be, but I wasn't in the mood for Terrence's sad attempts at being my prince charming or Wood' inbred arrogance.

I rolled my eyes as they continued to exchange death threats. Those two didn't have a single bone of originality in their bodies. "If you'll excuse me, _gentlemen_," I said elbowing Terrence and pushing Wood away simultaneously (how's that for multitasking?) "You two can continue to assert your masculinity, but I'm going to sleep." And without further ado, I walked by them and was well on my way across the entrance hall towards the dungeons. I would've arrived there before most of my classmates, hadn't it been for the stupid Gryffindor Captain who just couldn't take a hint.

"Sarah wait!" Wood caught up with me, grabbed me by my shoulder, and twirled me around so I had to face him. I did so with a deep scowl and a childish pout. "I really just wanted to see if you were alright. That whole dementor-in-the-train thing was quite a scare."

I raised an eyebrow. "I am _fine_, Wood. Don't you think it is a little extreme of you to come chasing me just for that?" He shrugged and let go of my arm.

"Well then, in that case, I guess goodnight." He walked away and I stood at the same spot confused, before understanding caught up with me. I groaned. He really needed to take things less seriously, I told myself as I resumed my walking. Before I reached the stairs that would take me down to the dungeons, I turned around to look over my shoulder.

Wood was standing talking with a fellow Gryffindors. He was laughing at what a petite brunette said. My eyes had just narrowed into serpent slits when Wood looked my way. Quickly recovering, I blew him a kiss before turning around, making sure to make my hips sway as I walked.

Gryffindor minds are so much fun to mess with.

* * *

The next morning I had a free period before Defense Against the Dark Arts. Which is why I arrived to the empty classroom a good fifteen minutes early. I took a seat near the front and next to a window. What can I say? I am a dork who enjoys being regularly updated about the local weather. I grabbed the class textbook and began to read chapter 3 since I had read the first two during my free time.

People wandered into the classroom much sooner than I would have liked. Adrian and Flint took the seats behind me (with the futile hopes that perchance I'd let them copy) and were blabbering like hyenas. I closed my book shut and placed it on the desk. The clock on the front of the room said that the professor was now officially five minutes late. Shrugging, I stretched my arms before turning around to see what all the fuss was about.

"I don't know, Pucey, she certainly has a beautiful ass but her face rivals that of a troll," said Flint scrutinizing a red-headed Ravenclaw.

"I thought you had troll blood yourself, Flint. You two might just be a match made in heaven," I said absentmindedly staring at my nails. They needed a do-over.

"Sod off, Montieth," spat Flint. I chuckled, while Adrian gave me a half-hearted smile. "How about that one? Filthy mudblood, of course, but the behind does match the face," he pointed towards a group of giggly Gryffindors arranged in a circle.

Sitting in the middle, like a princess and her court, was Abigail Williams. Yes, like the little brat who caused the Salem witch hunt or what not. Williams argued that she was not related to her rather infamous American-name-twin, but I begged to differ.

"Williams?" I snorted, placing my head on my arm and drawing invisible circles on the wooden desk with my other hand. "She looks like a mouse. Really, she's completely unremarkable, her hair color is just ghastly and her features are, well, _mousy."_ I said, eyeing Williams with half-closed eyes. She wasn't completely unremarkable, she did have the right fat deposits which I lacked, but I would bet my inheritance her patronus would be a mouse.

"Mousy? Are you running out of adjectives, Montieth, or are you just annoyed that she's better looking than you?" I narrowed my eyes and stuck my tongue out. Who needed Flint's approval, anyway? He would probably shag a goblin if given the opportunity. I pity the woman who'd be encouraged to marry him.

Flint snickered and continued trying to drive Adrian back into the conversation but Adrian was responding only half-heartedly. I decided to poke him in the arm to see if I could get some reaction out of him, but all I got was a warning look. He pushed my hand away; his hands were as cold as Snape's dungeons in the middle of January. I wanted to annoy him until he spilled the guts but I just couldn't quite find the energy to do so.

The combined sound of creaking wood and Flint's voice brought me back to the real world. "What the bloody hell do you think you are doing, Wood?" my ears perked up, and I looked up to see the thankfully one and only Oliver Wood staring down at Flint with an obvious I'm-about-to-sit-in-my-sodding-seat-you-big-mounta in-troll look splattered all over his face.

I glimpsed a dash of blond somewhere from the back, and assumed that Terrence had decided to stay out of the man-fight for the seat next to me. I wasn't quite sure how I felt about that.

"Mr…?" said an unfamiliar voice. I extended my neck to see professor Lupin standing behind Wood andstaring calmly at Flint.

A little too calmly, if you asked me.

Flint bared his teeth. "Flint."  
"Mr. Flint," Lupin repeated with a smile, "Perhaps I am outdated, but that was not proper vocabulary for an educational setting. However," he paused and looked over to the large clock. "Considering the fact that I am ah… fashionably late, and it is our first class, I will not deduct points. Please, do sit down," he motioned for both Flint and Wood to take their seats; Wood did so with a superior smirk and a flirtatious wink. I rolled my eyes and straightened my posture, grabbing a quill and parchment from my bag while I was at it. I could hear Flint plotting murder behind me.

"Now," said Lupin, "Put your books away. This will be a practical lesson. And," he added staring at my hissing companion snakes and a smiling Wood, "The seats you have chosen today will remain yours for the remainder of the year. Now, follow me."

A nasty smile spread through my face as I hurried to re-pack my supplies. It would seem I had just killed a bunch of birds with one spell: one, having Flint and Wood in such proximity could be highly entertaining in the future; two, it showed Terrence that he'd have to work a little bit harder; and three, it made Williams go livid.

* * *

That Friday evening I was hiding in a far off corner of the library scribbling at a piece of parchment. All of the professors seemed to think we had done nothing during the summer vacation, and therefore we should be flooded with homework on the first few days to help us "get back into the swing of things", as McGonagall had so charmingly put it.

And considering the fact that my mere existence in this school relied on continuing to be the brightest witch of my year, I was stuck finishing my arithmancy work while the rest of my house enjoyed a stag night. And I was getting nowhere.

I began doodling on the side something that looked an awful lot like a snitch. I inspected my little artwork before tossing it to the side and giving completing this assignment another shot. Penelope Clearwater had explained the basics of it, but since she happened to have a boyfriend, she had left me an hour ago to go spend time with him.

I still think I got the better end of the deal, to be honest.

I had done a considerable amount of progress to the point in which I thought I could actually finish this thing before the sun went down when someone sat in front of me. Of course, I felt vaguely irritated since I had chosen the most far off place in the entire library, but considering I was almost done, I couldn't be bothered.

A few minutes went by in which I completed two more sets of problems (only three more to go! I could practically taste the tart firewhiskey burning in my throat) when the person in front of me spoke. "You know, there is a word most people use to acknowledge each other's presence. I believe it is 'hello.'"

"I think its runs more along the lines of 'what the hell do you want, Wood?" I peeled my eyes off my parchment to look at him. He shrugged and pointed at his transfiguration homework and a piece of parchment so messy it looked almost entirely covered in black ink. "Whatever; just keep quiet, I'm almost done," and I want to get happy.

Some minutes passed in which I wrote a paragraph or two, and Wood managed to bite his quill then write something then scribble over it, then bite his quill once again only to scratch and rewrite. Scratch and rewrite. Scratch and rewrite. I was going insane.

"Wood, either you decide an angle and go with it, or you stop wasting parchment and save a small goat," I said, accidentally spilling some of my ink on a book. I cleaned it up quickly with a wave of my wand, my eyes never softening their glare. He gave me a small smile as an attempt of an apology. I rolled my eyes and got up from my seat to the one next to him. "What are you trying to study anyway? How to create fire the muggle way? "

"Transfiguration…" he said not meeting my eyes.

I chuckled. "Transfiguration? It's not a complicated assignment, is it? I mean, it's only two parchments long, and O.W.L.s review."

"I know, but I'm not particularly good at transfiguration."

"And you got into N.E.W.T. level classes how…?"  
He shrugged and smiled. "The witch that evaluated me at O.W.L.s thought I was good looking."

I stared at him in disbelief, my mouth hanging open. "You mean… you passed your O.W.L.s with _Exceed Expectations_ because the witch that evaluated you thought you were _cute_?"

He nodded, that damned smile still plastered on his face. "Pretty much."

"Damn," I whispered, twirling a lock of coal black hair around my finger. "Not even I thought about seducing my way through my education."

He laughed. "It's not like I _seduced her_, you know? I just… flirted a little," he finished off with a wink. I couldn't resist the urge to roll my eyes.

"Please Wood, you wouldn't know what flirting was if it stared at you with roses and chocolates," I said with a small sneer. Wood's smirk increased dangerously as he leaned forward to push a few locks of hair away from my ear. He brushed his lips briefly across my jawline, making me inhale rather sharply. His moist breath tickled my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

His voice was husky when he whispered. "Are you sure of that, Sarah?"

My heart was racing and I was acutely aware that my lips had parted open. Thankfully, I was a master actress. I shoved him hard away from me, and he leaned backwards laughing merrily. I glared at him with all my might as I punched him on the arm one more time for good measure.

I yanked his parchment away from him to try and decipher the hieroglyphs he had written there. My cheeks were burning and I inwardly cursed bad genes. "Why are you stealing my homework from me now? Can't resist the charm, can you?"

I rolled my eyes, my heart was till beating erratically and I thought it may be about to collapse. "No, but I know you well enough to know you're not going to go away any time soon – and I might as well get my transfiguration homework over with."  
"Sure, keep telling yourself that, Sarah."

Arshole.

* * *

**Author's note: **Did I tell you lot how much you rock? Thanks a ton to MyNotSoNormalLife, sapurplemonkey, Lyra Druella & Kat for the wonderful reviews :) And THANK YOU to everyone who favourite/follows/reads this.

As per writing a story based on Adrian (I know what you mean, sapurplemonkey, Adrian really grew on me too), I'll tell this for now: he will continue to play a major role and he will get his one short love story but not yet. If I get the inspiration and time, I'll try to do a chapter from his pov but with school I can't make many promises yet.

Keep reviewing/favouring/following. It really does make my day!


	6. Brokenhearted

******Disclaimer: **All recognizable characters/places are owned by J.K. Rowling and her publishers, and I do not claim ownership over them or their world. No copyright infringement is intended; this piece leads to no financial gain and it is written for the purpose of personal enjoyment and skill development. OC's and plot do belong to me.

* * *

Chapter 6 – Brokenhearted

The rest of the weekend had gone far smoother than the first few days. After my impromptu study group with Wood, I made my way back to the common room in a hurried haze. I dumped my books and bag over my bed, and I didn't even bothered to change from my school uniform. I rushed downstair where I stole a bottle of firewhiskey right off Flint's hands and chugged it down. There were pinpricks on my skin that needed a quick, intoxicated death.

After beating everybody who dared at chess, I spent the rest of the evening talking with Willow over some much needed Tarot Card readings. Unlike Trelawney, the old fraud, Willow could make sense of the bloody deck – and she was my first stop whenever I wanted an issue clarified. Of course, in accord with Slytherin morality, I never actually told her what it was that she was reading, so she was left with generic and vague interpretations that somehow always ended up being spot on.

That night was no different.

It was close to three in the morning and we were back in our dorm. I was alternating between drinking and painting my toe nails a dark purple. The night had been boring. No fights had broken out, no conga lines had magically appeared, and I couldn't even have a good laugh with Terrence and Adrian. Terrence… well, he had tried his best to be all gallant and all but he had drunk too much too soon and was still on the sofa, unconscious.

Adrian had given me a curt nod from his position in a secluded corner after I walked in, and then had gone back to his dorm. I didn't know what to make of it, and it was starting to get on my nerves.

One of these days, I'd have to confront the buffoon.

"The devil!" Willow squeaked, making me lose my grip and paint my toe as well as my nail. She was engrossed in reading my cards, and I had honestly lost interest about four cards ago. Darlene, who had spent the last hour changing her hair color back and forth, looked up from the place in front of the vanity. "In the future position," Willow went on trying to regain her composure and mystique.

Darlene let out a shrill, throaty chuckle. "Well, that's not too hard to interpret," no one answered her. "I mean, it's obviously Terrence," she threw me a venomous smile which I returned in kind, vanishing the extra nail polish with a swish from my wand.

While Terrence _was _definitely evil, I sure as hell hoped he wasn't what Willow was reading. At least not for the near future. Maybe later in the future.

Willow's forehead furrowed as she traced the iron chains that connected the poor lost souls to the devil in the picture. I stared at her, waiting for her to contradict Darlene. It's not like I cared about this whole tarot-reading-thing, Divination is an incredible unstable stream of magic. I just wanted her to contradict Darlene, for the hell of it. "The Devil is about ambitions; it's an obsession, something you want, but shouldn't or can't have."  
Darlene's snort annoyed me like nothing else had that evening. "Go on," I urged Willow before allowing Darlene an opportunity to spread her poison.

"Terrence is a past obsession," Willow said, "This card is in the future."

I didn't know whether to feel relieved or mortified. Darlene put her brush down and sat down on Willow's bed, tucking her long legs beneath her. "An obsession is an obsession – and when the desired object is unattainable, it is impossible to let go."

I pretended to ignore her, willing my hand not to shake as I finished off my nails. "Unattainable? I'm sorry, weren't you in the common room when he was practically serenading her with a Celestina Warbeck song?" I lifted my eyes to sneer at Darlene. She pushed herself off the bed and walked towards her own.

"But how long could she keep him for?" she asked, staring me straight in the eye over her shoulder before closing the curtain of her bed. Willow threw me a warning glance; I looked down only to find my wand had made its way to my hand and was currently pointing at the closed emerald curtains.

Bugger.

"Probably, for as long as it takes you to take off your panties," I muttered, tucking my wand beneath my legs to keep it out of my reach – for the moment.

"I'd be careful if I was you," Willow said, looking at me. "The Devil could be constructive, but it is usually more destructive, especially if it comes in the form of a person."

I yawned, a little bored with this doomsday predictions. I had hopes Willow wouldn't follow Trelawney's steps, but alas! Maybe it runs in the psychic-wannabe gene. Without replying, I made a small nest for myself beneath the warm blankets and magically began moving the curtains around my bed.

"The last card is Justice," I heard Willow say.

"Isn't that supposed to be a good card?"

"Probably not."

* * *

"Don't you look lovely this morning," Gwen said as she candidly took a seat at the SLytherin table. It was unreasonably early by Saturday morning standards (read: 8:00am), and our glorious table was almost empty except for a few first or second years. They are all short enough that I get them confused. "Tough night?"  
I eyed her from half-closed eyes that had still not grown accustomed to the early morning brightness. Adrian beside me was buttering up some toast, looking as alive as Sir Nicholas over there. Gwen, on the other hand, looked as pristine as an angel; blond curls bouncing perfectly over her shoulders as she helped herself to some pumpkin juice.

"What do you want Gwen? It's too early for your brand of sarcasm," I said trying to pour some tea on my cup and missing by several inches. "Bugger."

Gwen shrugged and took a small, dainty bite out of a piece of toast. "I just figured you'd want to be informed of the newest gossip before the castle had a chance to wake up."

I nodded at her while absentmindedly pouring about five teaspoons of sugar on my tea; I planned on putting enough sugar that I didn't need to stir. Stirring only gave me headaches. "Go on, I'm all ears."

"It's not ears I care about, it's eyes," she said turning to the side to give us a clear view of the Gryffindor table.

There, in what I am sure must be the most despicable event to ever grace human eyes, were Oliver Wood and Abigail Williams happily attached by the tongue. I spit my half-cold tea at the same time as Adrian choked on his piece of bacon.

Gwen's laugh seemed a bit forced as she finished off her juice. She grabbed her half-eaten toast and stood up with all the grace of a bleeding ballerina. "I just thought you'd want to know. Ta-ta! I'm off to torture Francis!" she waved and left in a blur of golden hair.

"She's quite the character, your cousin," Adrian mumbled after we had both regained our breath (I don't think my eyes would ever recover, however). I nodded as I took another sip of tea, and gagged. I had put way too much sugar.

Bugger.

* * *

Monday morning saw me in transfiguration. I was seated between Terrence and Adrian, with Willow one row ahead of us, stuck with two Ravenclaws the lucky duck. McGonagall was handing out our assignments while Weasley distributed the pigs.

I massaged the back of my neck as I listened to the odd cry of glee and the much more common groan of disappointment. Adrian nudged me in the arm when our assignments arrived. I took a quick look at it before feeling a rush of relief wash over me: 'O.' Terrence was leaning over my shoulder to get a look at my mark, and I didn't bother to cover it up. Let him drown in jealousy.

"Damn, Lisa."

I know, I know.

I creened my neck to look at Adrian's, but he pushed the piece of parchment into his bag before I could take a good look. I pouted at him, a technique that normally worked, but he just kept staring straight ahead.

Crossing my arms across my stomach and breaking my previous perfect posture, I hunched over and proceeded to imitate him. A movement on the corner of my eye made me look that way, and I saw Wood smiling at his new girlfriend, a big 'E' written in red over his parchment.

I'd have to charge him for that.

That evening I was determined to find out what had Adrian's knickers in a bloody twist.

I told Terrence to bugger off and go have dinner with Flint or someone equally disgusting, and kidnapped Adrian to sit next to me on the edge of the table closest to the teachers where no one ever sits. He sat down begrudgingly, probably more out of curiosity than actual fear of my tactics.

"Spill," I said, my fingers grabbing the edge of the table hard enough to get rid of any circulating blood. My arse was just slightly off the seat, and I was leaning sufficiently forward that my nose was less than a feet away from Adrian's fringe.

The bastard proceeded to get some potatoes on his plate. "Spill what?"

"Whatever the hell is wrong with you."

He raised an eyebrow and offered me a smirk as he threw a bit of carrot on my face. "Many things, in fact. Would you like them alphabetically or in order of importance?"

"Neither," I said through gritted teeth and wiped my cheek with a napkin. "I only care about whatever's been making you act like Moaning Myrtle these past few days."

He sighed and took a long sip of his pumpkin juice. "Nothing really; I've just been tired that's all."  
I cocked an eyebrow, leaned forward and pushed his fringe behind so I could lock my eyes into his blue ones. "You are a fantastic Slytherin, Adrian; but you can't lie to me." He wiped my hand away rather forcefully. "C'mon, whatever it is it cannot be _that_ bad."

"There is nothing to talk about, Elizabeth. Everything is _fine_, and if something isn't, then I think it is just a pigment of your imagination," he got up, throwing his napkin over his half-eaten dinner. I chased after him as he practically run the length of the Great Hall in record time.

He never called me Elizabeth, it was always "Lizzie" or "Liz" or "Lisa" or "you bitch" but never _Elizabeth_.

"Fine!" I yelled the moment I caught up with him at the stairs, "Go bugger yourself then! Don't tell me; it isn't like I care or anything!"

Adrian spun around, and retraced his steps to stand two steps below me. He was eyelevel with me. "What do you want?"

"I want you to tell me what the hell is going on."

"You want to know, Lisa? You can't handle it," he said, his wide eyes making him look slightly insane. His hands shot up to his head where they balled amongst locks of black hair.

"Try me."

"You can't," he repeated as he turned around and began walking back towards the common room. "Because I don't trust you to keep the knowledge to yourself."

If he had slapped me, it probably would've stung less. I stood by the edge of the stairs, frozen; my eyes slightly widened and watered. I don't know for how long I stood there, glaring at the empty spot. I only came back when I felt a hand on my arm.

"Are you ok, Liz?" Gwen said, her tiny hand gripping my upper arm. I shook my head, and wiped my face clean of stray hairs.

"I'm fine."

Gwen bit the inside of her cheek before speaking. "Perhaps you should get him drunk," she suggested. "It is easier to get them to spill their guts out when they are not thinking clearly."  
I chortled and messed her hair up, the way I've seen Francis do a million times. "That was plan B."

"I'm sure he didn't mean it like that." Numbly, I nodded. "When it comes to matters of the heart, it is usually harder to talk about, don't you think?"

"What do you mean?"

Gwen threw me a disbelieving look. "Oh please; he stinks of a broken heart."

* * *

**Author's note: **thanks a million to BattyCash and Chel123 for the wonderful reviews, and to everyone that reads/favourites/follows this :)

There is a bit more meat on this chapter that on the last one. The drama is picking up. Next chapter I think it's one of my absolute favourites, so keep posted! and keep reviewing;)


	7. Injured

**Disclaimer**: All recognizable characters/places are owned by J.K. Rowling and her publishers, and I do not claim ownership over them or their world. No copyright infringement is intended; this piece leads to no financial gain and it is written for the purpose of personal enjoyment and skill development. OC's and plot do belong to me.

This story contains coarse language.

* * *

Chapter 7 – Injured

Time flew by and before I knew it, September had ended and rolled unto October. Hallowe'en loomed ever so slightly over the horizon, which was continuously getting more cramped by the insane amount of homework I had to do. F_ive_ essays, four feet to six feet long all due next Monday was simply superfluous.

I was attempting to plan my study schedule during History of Magic while brooding over the Adrian-debacle, as I had decided to call it and getting nowhere on either account. I rested my chin on my hand, a quill dangling from my fingers as Binns droned on and on about Merlin knows what. I'd probably have to catch up on that _later_, but at that moment all I felt like doing was cussing Adrian and throwing him off the Astronomy Tower.

_Please, he stinks of a broken heart,_ Gwen had said. But I wasn't sure; I mean did Adrian have an actual heart that could be broken? I'm sure it would have been published in the Prophet or Witch Weekly if he had. I could see the headline: "Discovery of the century, Slytherin Casanova, Pure-blood Snob and Runner Up for the 'Ultimate Arshole of the Year' award has actual _feelings._"

It gave me the creeps.

After his little revelation, he had been relegated me to the cold treatment or, otherwise known as: from this point onwards, I shall no longer give care. It had worked, mostly; I mean the approach was simple: ignore him, avoid him, and stop thinking about him. I had no problem following the first two parts of the equation; it was the third portion that kept making my life hard.

I just kept noticing these things, these little changes. Like the fact that he was eating actual used to eat as much vegetables as your everyday dragon. Or the way in which he walked with his head down, as if he were measuring each and every step, when before he walked around with his head held high. Although the most telling sign was the fact that in more than a month, he hadn't told Flint to go eff himself or belittled Terrence's attempts at courting.

Hell, he didn't even have _one_ sarcastic remark when Terrence owled me a dozen roses (having forgotten of course that I despise roses) for no reason other than he is as romantic as a Gringotts goblin.

And so, I had spent the last couple of days seeking refuge in the library. Not even Woody visited me anymore, unless he needed help with transfigurations. I suppose his girlfriend and unhealthy obsession with Quidditch kept him very much occupied. Like I care, honestly, I had enough on my plate as it was. Not having to deal with the kitty-prince was a blessing.

I was too far gone in la-la-land, possibly imagining the use of the veritaserum potion on an unsuspecting Adrian, when a rather large ball of parchment hit my head.

Groaning, I untangled the parchment from my hair and laid it flat on the desk. _"You look ghastly, did you buy new under-the-eye eye shadow or are you simply preparing for Hallowe'en?"_

That little arse. With my eyes narrowed, I turned to my side where, sure enough, Wood sat staring at me with his trademark smirk. He wriggled his eyebrows suggestively, making me momentarily nauseous. I dipped my quill into the ink container and scribbled my response before throwing it back to him, and missing his eye by several inches.

Bugger.

I saw him chuckle before a new parchment hit my face again. "_Seriously though, you look like you could do with some sunlight. What do you say we skip this useless waste of time and go spend some quality time outside?"_

Quality time, with Wood? Too many bludgers to the head. "_Am I corrupting you, Woody_? _You're telling me to skip class, and here I was thinking you were the good one."_

I missed his face, again.

Double bugger.

He didn't reply; instead he threw me a meaningful look, pocketed the piece of parchment and raised his hand. Binns stopped talking to himself long enough to hear out Wood's pathetic excuse to exit the classroom. He motioned for me to follow him when he reached the door, and Weasley had gone back to immersing his nose in his textbook.

I licked my lips open, pondering the pros and the cons. Cons: he could get caught and points could get deduced from Gryffindor – I'm sorry, that's a pro. I looked towards Binns who kept on talking and talking about modern witchcraft history and who-cares. Deciding to do something rash for once in my life (hey, most Gryffindor's survived, why shouldn't I?), I threw my books into my bag and simply walked out of the room. I heard Binns screaming "Ms…!" as I left but I didn't care. What's the worst that can happen anyway?

Wood was waiting for me down the corridor, leaning against the wall, reviewing a small leather notebook. I rolled my eyes as I approached him. "Scared of the big bad Slytherin Quiddtich team?" I asked, nodding my head towards his small book.

He grinned, before putting the book back into his bag. "Not scared, no; I just figured you'd take your sweet time getting out of class. This is the first time you've done this, if I am not mistaken."

I shrugged. "You are; although I usually just don't show up." He nodded and began walking in the general direction of the entrance hall. I quickly tagged along; if we got caught, I could swear I was under the Imperius charm.

"Where do you think you are going?" I asked the moment I caught up with him. He hadn't been serious about the Quidditch pitch, had he? I mean, it was freaking _October_ – it was cold, and I was wearing a quilt.

"We are going outside, I told you, you could use some serious color on that skin of yours," he said, stopping long enough to grab my arm and push my robe up, showing a forearm that looked as if it had never seen the sun. "The vampire look is really not that endearing," I yanked my arm out of his grip and he laughed. "Besides, I've been inside for way too long this week; it's making me go barmy."

"So the problem's been claustrophobia all along," I commented as we approached the Entrance Hall's doors. "If only I had known that sooner."

We walked in silence as we crossed the entrance doors. Two dementors were standing on either side of the door. I shivered as the cold sensation of impending doom swept over me. Wood placed his hand on my lower back, urging me forward. Once out of range I heard him mutter.

"Damn those things; Dumbledore is mental for letting be here."

"Tsk tsk, two swearing incidents in one comment?" I said as I blew hot air into my hands, "Is this a whole new side of you; your _wild side_?" He looked down at me, blushing. "Aww, poor little Woody-poo is blushing," I said squeezing his cheeks. He groaned in protest and took my hand away. He caressed his cheek as he looked at me through faked offended eyes. I couldn't help but chuckle when he stung his tongue out at me in the most child-like fashion.

We continued walking in silence until we reached the edge of the forbidden forest, where a little wood cabin was located. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door. "Aren't we going to the Quidditch pitch?"

"Later," he said, not stopping nor slowing his pace, leaving me to jog in order to catch up with him. "We are paying Hagrid a short visit, first." I frowned as Wood knocked on the door and clasped my robe tightly around myself. Stupid wind. A dog barked on the other side. Fantastic.

The wooden door opened and Hagrid appeared, struggling to contain that horrible beast. Compared to _this_, Wood's dog was a lady. The thing was trying to break free of Hagrid's rather massive hold on the collar, whilst sprinkling us with saliva. "Good morning, Hagrid," Wood said cheerfully wiping his cheek and bending down to pet the animal.

The groundkeeper's eyes landed on Wood before they made their way to my house Crest, and then back to Wood. "Hangin' out with Slytherin's, Oliver? What about Abigail, hm?"

Wood smiled as he got up and removed some dog hair from his pants. "Nothing to worry about. Sarah is like… family." Where are all the throwing-up-trash-bins when I need one?

"Shouldn't yer two be in yer classes?" he asked (finally) realizing it was ten in the morning. I was about to comment but Wood nudged me in the stomach.

"We ehm… skipped," he winced as he waited for Hagrid's reaction. He just shook his head in a disapproving motion.

"C'mon in, yer two must be cold," he motioned for us to go inside, still holding tightly to the dog's leash. I took a quick, rather scared, look at the one-room cabin, and looked over to Wood uneasily. The jerk merely smiled and pushed me in saying "Ladies first."

I made it a point to get rid of Wood's gentleman-habits.

I was greeted by the warmth of a fireplace, something I hadn't expected, but that I most certainly welcomed. I didn't wait for an invitation, and made myself at home by kneeling by the embers and warming up my frozen fingers. Quickly, I scanned the remainder of the house. It wasn't nearly as attractive as the warm, bright fire so I paid it no further attention.

"So, what are yer two doing 'ere?" Hagrid asked as he went over the cupboards to retrieve cups and a teapot. Wood sat on a big, wooden chair by the table and motioned for me to do the same. I frowned, but reluctantly, abandoned the fire and sat next to him. Thankfully, the dog was having the time of its life splattering saliva all over Wood's robes and paid me no heed.

"Just talking a walk through the grounds, you know, get some fresh air," said Wood. Hagrid nodded in agreement, probably thinking this an excusable reason not to be getting an education. "Actually," here we go… "I wanted to show her Buckbeak if that's alright with you."

Hagrid dropped one of the half-filled cups on the table, causing the tea to spread around like a cobweb which I had to clear up, since Wood's hands were preoccupied with that stinking dog. "Buckbeak don't want anything ter do with Slytherin's," he hollered (okay, said), his big beard-covered chin wobbling pitifully.

I snorted. And people wonder why Slytherin's are the way they are. Didn't anyone ever think that if good ol' uncle Voldie had gotten a good hug once in a while he might not have turned out to be such a psychopath?

But Wood, being as dense as his last name wouldn't settle for a perfectly acceptable 'no.' "C'mon Hagrid, she's not going to hurt him, she's great with animals," I choked with my own saliva at the remark. Animals, kids, plants, and basically any living being were out of my 'I'm good at' realm.

Hagrid stared at Wood for a long minute, seeming to weight how much he should believe the idiotic, obsessed, and certainly bad for my health captain. "'m not sure, Oliver…"

"What if you supervise us, Hagrid?" Wood said, offering the engorged-hairy-bloke his best puppy face.

Hagrid seemed to ponder the idea for a while, before speaking. "Alrite', I'll take yer to him." Wood smirked in triumph, and I rolled my eyes but before I knew it, the big feathery-furry thing with big, ugly claws and sharp looking peak was before me.

Bloody effing hell.

One of these days, mark my words, Oliver Wood is going to be the death of me.

I stood frozen, with an open mouth and all, staring at the precarious wooden fence that was my only protection at the moment. Wood, being the impulsive bastard he was jumped the fence and instantly kneeled in front of the ugly beast. I held my breath, my eyes half-closed waiting for the inevitable moment in which Wood would cease to live. However, and much to my surprise, some moments later the hippogriff bend down and Wood started petting him. Hagrid wiped a tear off of the corner of his eye.

"Sarah! C'mon! He's real nice!" Wood shouted, waving his hand at me while petting the thing's beak. I gave him my best "no-way-in-hell" look and crossed my arms against my chest.

"Not happening."

"If she's scared, she better not approach him."

I threw the groundkeeper a contemptuous look. Me? A coward? Well, ok, possibly. I might be afraid of that ugly, dangerous, life-threatening beast, but I was in no way going to admit it. I still have some pride left in me deep within – it was probably already inside my small intestines, digesting breakfast.

Wood walked back to where I was standing hugging my arms to my body. "Come on, if you do as I tell you nothing is going to happen, you'll see," he offered me his hand from the other side of the fence. I eyed it distrustfully but he nudged me in the arm, and my eyes met his smile. With one last groan, I accepted it. As my personal advocate, I have yet to see ANY female that can resist those big brown eyes.

I was in no way prepared to what happened next. Grabbing both my arms, Wood forced me to stand on the fence and by pulling me from my waist he managed to make me reach the other side. I clung onto his shoulders trying to regain some balance, my breath and my dignity.

"There you are, see? Nothing bad happened," he said with that bloody smile of his.

"Yet."

Wood dismissed my everlasting optimism with a hand wave, and with his two hands on my shoulders, he steered me closer toward the feathery monster. He crouched low, pulling me down in front of him by default; I was too terrorized to argue. "All you have to do is look at him straight in the eye, and try not to blink," he said, his breath tickling my exposed neck. "Bow your head a little, just like that," he pushed my head down since my muscles refused to cooperate. I gulped and suppressed a shiver. Why Merlin, why did I have to listen to Oliver Bloody Wood from all people?

I took a deep breath, and tried to block the tickling sensation Wood's respiration generated on my neck and focus on not dying. I stared into the Hippogriff's eyes for a while, a long while actually; my eyes were watering as I tried my hardest not to blink. I was starting to get nervous seeing how he didn't move, instead, the beast seemed to be almost recoiling; if he were human, I would guarantee you he would be about to slap me.

Newest addition to my black list: Hippogriffs.

"Maybe it'd be better if yer back down, Oliver…" I heard Hagrid mutter cautiously, a little scared. I never thought I would be glad to follow his instructions. Wood pulled me back, carefully coaching my movements. I never took my gaze from the hippogriff. He never bowed down for me.

oOo

"Now, that was educational" I hissed as we left Hagrid's house after tea. It was still early, about half an hour before lunch and my bad mood was increasing exponentially.

Wood scratched his chin thoughtfully. "That was rather odd, usually Buckbeak is quite social."

"Oh I'm pretty sure he must just have been having a bad feather day."

He shrugged, his strides becoming larger as we neared the Quidditch pitch even though we both knew we wouldn't make it if we still wanted to catch some lunch. He only did that because he knew I'd have to walk extra fast to keep up. "How are things in Loveland?" I asked, taking in deep, cold breaths.

"Fine, I guess," he answered, his eyes not meeting mine. Ooh, this was interesting.

"You are going to have to give me more details than that, Woody. It's been what, a month since you two began dating? Things can't have gone sour yet."

"They haven't. Abigail is a great girl and I do fancy her," he said, scratching his hair. "There really isn't that much you can use to spread vile rumours about me."

Bugger. "And yet, you don't sound very enthusiastic about it," I pressed. We had taken a short turn towards the lake. Wood was already making himself comfortable on the hard, cold ground. I eyed with apprehension before he rolled his eyes and laid down his scarf for me to sit on. I accepted rather gladly.

I heard him sigh before he spoke. "I am content; Abigail is a sweet girl, and she's very understanding," I scoffed, leaning forward to draw circles with my fingers on the ground. That meant that she didn't mind being ditched due to endless Quidditch practices. "It's just nice to have someone you know you can go to when you need to."

We sat in silence; I was doodling on the ground (with a twig now, in order to make any sort of lasting mark on the earth I'd have to get mud beneath my nails) and Wood was staring off into the distance. All the thoughts I had wanted to avoid thinking about in the past weeks came rushing in. Terrence, Adrian, and the everlasting loneliness of being a Slytherin.

I sighed and I threw the twig away. Could I be content as Terrence's wife? Would he be dependable when I needed him to? I was torn. A part of me wanted to give in, and give the sodding git another chance – he'd been on his best behaviour since we got back, and on more than one occasion I had to restrain myself from snogging him senseless. But on the other hand, could I become a forgiving person?

And then, there was Adrian. The one other person I thought would be dependable, except he was now reduced to a shadow of his former self. Was it even worth my time worrying about him, when he truly didn't give a crap?

"We should get going; lunch is going to be soon and I am famished," Wood said, breaking my trail of thinking. He offered me his hand to help me get up and, after a quick inspection on the state of my arse; we began to walk back to the castle. I shoved his scarf on his face, but he shoved it back into mine. "Are you barmy? Wash it before you return it like that; it's full of mud."

I was about to reply, when Wood stopped moving and I collided with his back, his scarf squished between us. I looked up to see what had made him stop when he pulled out his wand hand from his robe pocket, wand in hand.

Dementors.

Five dementors to be exact were nearing in on us. Wood's left hand reached behind me to push me closer to him. Cursing, I threw the scarf over my shoulder, leaving it to hang there, and fished my wand out. My teeth began to chatter for reasons other than the cold, late autumn air.

"Can you cast a Patronus?" he asked, his voice a mere whisper. I whimpered, but nodded ever so slightly. At least, I knew the theory behind it. Now was the time to see if the practice would be as simple to comprehend. "Think of something happy," he commanded. I closed my eyes and tried to come up with a good memory but my mind was blank of such things.

All I could see was my mother's lifeless stares, as the healers changed her into a clean hospital gown; Adrian's words rung in my ears, and faded memories of Terrence's caresses made my skin prickle. And all I could to keep me from breaking down was to hold on to my wand and increase my grip on Wood's clothes.

The dementors neared at what seemed like an impossibly slow yet quick speed. "Sarah," Wood's voice seemed distant, blurry like the grey sky above us. He nudged me, and I looked up. His jaw was oddly positioned, his teeth probably grinding down in the effort not to break into a senseless sob. His eyes were watering, and I realized my cheeks were soaked wet. "Sarah." I tried to think of last summer, when we were in the ocean, tried to recollect the feeling of safety I had felt that night. I took a deep breath and attempted the incantation.

"Expecto Patronum!" but it wasn't my voice; it was Wood's. I was sufficiently conscious to glimpse the silvery bear as it chased the dementors away. Then everything went black.

* * *

**Author's note**: Big hugs to xXMizz Alec VolturiXx and Wowzas for the lovely reviews and to everyone who read/favourites/follows this story :)

This chapter took a few extra days, apologies! It's midterms - that's my excuse and I am sticking to it.

Happy Halloween!

Did I accidentally upload ch 5 again instead of 7? I have no idea what happened, I open the story through manage stories and it shows ch 5, I opened it through the link on my page and showed ch 7? Odd. I'm deleting and re-uploading this to make sure. Thanks Lola Marlene Black for flagging this for me!


	8. Silenced

**Disclaimer**: All recognizable characters/places are owned by J.K. Rowling and her publishers, and I do not claim ownership over them or their world. No copyright infringement is intended; this piece leads to no financial gain and it is written for the purpose of personal enjoyment and skill development. OC's and plot do belong to me.

* * *

**Chapter 8 - Silenced**

"What in Merlin's name were you doing on the grounds when you were supposed to be in class?" there is really nothing more mood-lifting than a very angry, stressed, hair-sticking-out-of-bun Minerva McGonagall. I took another bite of my chocolate, and looked over at Wood expecting him to come up with something believable. It was his fault I had been out in the grounds; therefore, it was his fault that I was now in the hospital wing because a bunch of dementors were feeling a little under the weather.

At least I got some kickass chocolate out of the situation.

"Detention!" she shouted when neither of us answered. "And twenty points from each of your houses!" she added with a specifically stern look towards Wood who had shrinked to half his size. If I hadn't landed a detention as well, I would sure be laughing my arse out at him. I settled for another piece of chocolate. "I must say, I'm very disappointed. Knowing the circumstances… excellent students, both of you…"

"Professor…" Wood began, his voice low, and a painful expression on his face – he looked almost as if he was expecting McGonagall to hit him in the head with her wand at any time. And by the looks of her, that seemed very likely.

The doors opened and Dumbledore walked in. McGonagall wheeled around to talk to the headmaster, her wand clutched tightly in her hand. "Albus!" she practically screamed, "There you have it! Dementors attacked students, Albus. Certainly they cannot stay after this?" I sensed hope in her words and I sympathized.

Dumbledore walked slowly but surely towards our beds, his half-moon glasses reflecting the lights of the candles. Wood cowered even further, as if he was trying to blend in with his surroundings. Fat chance, I thought as I continued nibbling on my chocolate, considering his robes were black and covered with mud and the hospital wing was pristine white.

"I am afraid, Minerva," he said after tearing his gaze off of us, "that Cornelius does not believe this incident is sufficiently grave to dismiss the dementors."

"How dare he! They could have administered the kiss if Wood hadn't casted a Patronus charm!"

Dumbledore's eyes sparkled as he shifted his gaze towards Wood with interest. "A corporeal Patronus?" McGonagall rolled her eyes in frustration, ah Dumbledore's teaspoon attention span…

"Ahm…" Wood shifted uncomfortably on his seat, probably trying to be all humble and what not. I rolled my eyes and ate my last piece of chocolate. "Yes, sir."

"Impressive," Dumbledore said, "What shape did it take?"

"I believe it was a bear, sir."

"Was that the first time you ever cast a Patronus charm, Mr. Wood?"

"Yes sir."

McGonagall stared at Dumbledore and then at Wood; then she exploded. "So what if Mr. Wood cast a corporeal Patronus, Albus?"

Dumbledore smiled ever so slightly, "It is very important that Mr. Wood managed to cast a Patronus, Minerva; it is very advanced magic. I believe Gryffindor should be granted ten points for it, actually."

I snorted, secretly cursing that I had run out of chocolate. Wood looked at me over his shoulders, and then at his own half-eaten chocolate. Without a second thought, or so it seemed, he handed it over to me. I took it without even looking at him, and began picking at it so I had something to do with my hands. Stupid Wood able to cast stupid advanced charm, stupid Gryffindor getting stupid points…

Our little exchanged didn't go unnoticed by the headmaster, but then, does anything ever escape the eyes of the old man? He got this twinkle in his eye as he stared at us for a few brief seconds. McGonagall stared at him, and back at us, wondering if she was missing on some kind of inside joke.

At that precise moment, a blur of brown, red and black pushed her way through the two teachers and abruptly bumped into an unsuspecting Oliver Wood.

"Oliver! I was so worried when I found out!" screeched a very hyperactive Williams. I exchanged an annoyed look with the transfiguration professor, before digging into my newly acquired chocolate with a sigh. Wasn't anybody going to take pity on the poor, abandoned little Slytherin and let her _go _someplace cat-free? I'm starting to think I'm allergic.

Williams sent me a mocking glare over Wood's shoulders; her hands were wrapped around his neck tight enough to cut off blood circulation. His face had gone incredibly red. Unfortunately for her, the doors opened again and Gwen rushed in, surreptitiously elbowing Williams out of the way and attaching herself to Oliver. "Lisa! Oliver!" she wailed while she hid her face in his chest. Williams stared at her dumbfounded. I laughed, and I think even Dumbledore chuckled. "I came as soon as I heard! Are you hurt?" her eyes had tactically placed water droplets on the corners, her lower lip trembled perfectly. Williams still looked like the Hogwarts Express had just run her over.

Wood sighed, but patted her shoulder blades with all the affection of an older brother. "We're fine, Gwen; nothing happened really."  
"How can you say that?" Williams exploded. I ate another piece of chocolate, and made myself comfortable, this could take a while. McGonagall had also taken a seat, and she was looking at the entire scene rather forlornly while taping her fingers on the arm rest. "You were attacked by dementors! They could've-I – I don't even think about it!"

Williams took hold of one of Wood's arms and began tugging rather excessively; the more force she used to disengage Gwen from her boyfriend, the harder Gwen held on. Dumbledore seemed amused by the pitiful predisposition of the Quidditch captain: sandwiched between a whiny girlfriend and a very stubborn pre-pubescent girl.

"Really I'm _fine_," he said, perhaps a little more sternly than normally, but then again, Williams was literally trying to pry Gwen's arm out of his head.

She seemed to realize that she was fighting a losing battle for she let go of his arms and chose instead to stare at him like a wet puppy – before turning her attention to me. "What were you doing out there with that-that trollop?" she screeched, pointing at me with a shaking finger.

I ate another piece.

"Language, Ms. Williams," Dumbledore reminded her gently, placing a hand on the fuming girl. Gwen's head snapped up, and she sent me an evil grin which I replied with a roll of eyes. William's was still glaring daggers at me but hey, it wasn't my fault his boyfriend was ignoring her in favour of a thirteen year old.

That's my story, and I am sticking to it.

"OI! Oliver!" everyone turned around to look at the new comer. Fantastic, Francis. "I heard you cast a Patronus! Corporeal Patronus," he had that stupid smile on his face he got every time he saw Viktor Krum catching a snitch in record time. It made me sick. He punched Wood on his shoulder, slightly shoving a dumbfounded Williams aside. "Nice one, mate," then he turned to me. "And how the bloody hell did you almost faint?"

That was it. My relative good mood was gone. I shot Francis a nasty glare, jumped of the bed and began walking towards the door. "Ms Montieth," said a voice that sounded like Dumbledore's. Sighting, I turned around on my heel, trying to look innocent. "Are you sure you are alright? Perchance you should stay in the hospital wing for a little longer."

I stared at him, and spoke for the first time in half an hour. "Thank you for your concern, professor, but I am feeling much better now. I am quite sure I can make through the rest of the day." He nodded without asking any more questions; I quickly smiled at Gwen and ignored the the bloody Gryffindor's.

Adrian reached the door of the hospital wing at the same time I did. He was panting, and his cheeks were flustered. "Hey," he said in between hard-earned breaths, "I just heard, what hap-" I shoved the rest of my chocolate in his mouth, choking him.

Take that, bastard! I mentally high-fived myself.

Without a backward glance, I made my way towards the Slytherin dungeon. I believed I was in dire need of a quiet afternoon.

* * *

"Montieth, did you finish that bloody essay already?"

"No."

"Are you even near finishing it?"

"No."

"Are you going to lend it to me?

"No."

"Are you not going to have sex with me?"

"Nice try, Flinty," it was Wednesday evening, and Marcus Le Flint hadn't finished his homework. I really don't know why he even bothers to ask me for it anymore, it's not like I am going to concede without anything in return.

"Montieth, stop being such a bitch!"

"That would be asking for the impossible, Flint," Terrence said, sauntering into the room and sitting next to me. I showed him the finger and he laughed it off. Merlin, he was gorgeous when he smiled! No, bad, bad thoughts; focus on your charms textbook, much, much safer.

"Montieth!" screamed Flint, trying to regain our –alright, my- attention, "I demand you let me copy your answers."

I rolled my eyes, not enjoying his tone, "Say please."

"Excuse me?"

"Wrong word, Flint, try again." I tore my gaze from Terrence very kissable lips to stare at Flint; you could almost see his neurons trying to find a way out of the humiliating situation that didn't include doing the work himself.

"Please," he muttered through clenched teeth.

I put my hand near my ear to use it as an amplifier, "I'm sorry, Flinty, I must be going deaf. I didn't hear you. Mind repeating it?"

He glared daggers and me, and was probably already plotting vengeance but for the time being I had the upper chance. "I said please."

I smiled in victory, not wanting to push my luck too far. "You can start with charms and defense; ask Adrian to give you transfiguration once he's done," he got up to search through my books for the correct piece of homework. "And put it back where and how you found it!" I yelled after him. It was his turn to show me the finger. I turned back towards Terrence and we both burst laughing.

"We are late for prefects meeting," he said, I shrugged.

"By how much?"

He looked at his wristwatch before answering. "About twenty minutes."

"Let's leave in ten, then."

Weasley wasn't pleased when we walked in, some healthy forty minutes late; but then again I usually went out of my way to displease me, so it really didn't bother me when he started shouting. I can't understand how Penelope stands him. She could do _so_ much better. So, I sat down and pretended not to notice Terrence's knee bumping into mine.

When the meeting was over, we walked back towards the common room together. This wasn't unusual, as the eldest prefects in Slytherin we usually had to stay behind for a few more minutes of Weasley-mental-bashing. He was chattering nonstop, his arm draped casually on my shoulders. I wasn't listening; my mind was still recovering from the day's events and quickly veering towards very dangerous ground.  
Primarily: should I give the bastard beside me another chance?

A part of me screamed no, certain things cannot be forgiving and he should rot in a cell with only Weasley for company. Then again, on the other hand, Terrence could become a valuable asset. The end justifies the means, right?

"So," I heard him say, only after I noticed we had stopped walking. "Will you go with me? I know it is still rather soon, but I thought perhaps it would be a good start."

I blinked. "Huh?" Eloquent, Elizabeth, very eloquent indeed.

He smiled, and pushed a few stray hairs behind my ear, making sure to cup my cheek when he was done. "I was wondering, if you'd like to go on a date with me next Hogsmeade visit."

"There is a Hogsmeade visit?"

Terrence chuckled, pinching my cheek slightly. "I know you like to walk around with your nose in a book, but-" he couldn't finish his sentence, because his lips had accidently crashed into mine. I closed my eyes instinctively, feeling my body relax into the comfortable feelings. Could've, should've, would've…?

* * *

I woke up to a spinning world. Quite literally too. The snoring was to blame; I thought in my half-asleep, half-awake, one hundred percent irrational state. I turned around, hoping to drown the sounds with the pillow and thus avoid waking up until tomorrow morning when I collided with something. Still refusing to open my eyes, I tentatively began searching the surface.

Silky sheets: check.

Oversized pillows: check

Male body sleeping beside me: check.

Wait, what?

Last night came rushing in to me. After Terrence had asked to Hogsmeade, and I had giving him the most ambivalent answer known to human kind, a switch in his brain had gone off making him think that my incoherent mumbling had meant 'yes.' Why is it that men interpret "uhh" as "I'm yours for the taking?" Then I had the stupidity to forsake my usual lonely study sessions in the library for a bottle of firewhiskey. Terrence had been by my side the entire night, making sure my cup was never empty, and granting me my every whim.

Which is why we ended up in his bed, furiously snogging.

_Just_ snogging.

Ok, maybe a bit of touching but we hadn't gone as far as we had in the past. I can't remember why, but I have the slight suspicion I might have fallen asleep – and since my knickers (and his) were still on, I had to conclude Terrence had behaved surprisingly gentlemanly.

However, without the alcohol-induces haze, I was realizing this wasn't such a good idea. I sat up, causing my head to want to explode and my stomach to want to vomit. My body fell limp against the soft pillows. And the body beside me murmured something in his sleep that sounded like "biscuits". Accepting the fact that I couldn't see or move an awful lot without setting off my nervous system, I slowly, very slowly, began examining the bedside table that I was sure was somewhere near me. After a few touches of silk and more silk, I touched wood and next to wood there was a glass.

Water.

I could almost hear my body screaming for hydration. I once again attempted sitting up, the prospect of some good H2O made the throbbing in my head bearable. Only, the glass didn't contain water. I recognized the liquid as soon as it landed inside my mouth. I would've screamed in pleasure: it was Adrian's infamous anti-hangover potions!

Merlin, I was saved.

And here I thought the morose arshole had stopped brewing them.

I drunk the whole thing at once; the effect was almost instantaneous. I put the glass back on the table, and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. My head felt much better now, in fact, it felt awesome. In fact, it felt a whole lot clearer than it had been since that rather unfortunate dementor incident.

Inching my way out of the bed, I buttoned my blouse it hastily and put my jumper back on. Holding my shoes with one hand, I walked out of the room in tiptoes thanking Salazar my quilt was still securely attached and Flint snored enough to cause an avalanche. I closed the door behind me and began going downstairs, hoping no one would see me.  
No such luck.

Adrian was still awake.

The fire had been reduced to slow burning embers, casting an eerie light across the common room (and making it hard for me to see the stairs). He turned around and his eyes pinned me against the wall when the wood beneath me creaked. I cussed silently.

"Had fun, Lisa?" he said, turning his head to stare at the dying fire, his voice monotone and dead. I didn't reply, but continued walking down the stairs without bothering with not making noise.

I plopped on a nearby sofa. "Define fun."

He chuckled, offering me a grisly look before avoiding my eyes altogether. "You know, I always thought you of all Slytherin girls would have some kind of integrity. I guess I was wrong."

I pretended it didn't hurt, and adjusted my jumper more calmly. My hands shook. "And I thought you, of all Slytherin blokes, had more balls. Or did they get chopped off when you decided to behave like a mopping teenage girl?"

"I suppose I have been rather taciturn as of late," he twirled the amber liquid in his glass as he spoke.

"That's not quite the adjective I would choose, Pucey."

"You are changing the subject."  
"Quite successfully, if I made add."

Adrian stood up and walked near me; I scooped my legs beneath me, releasing my feet from the heels I had hastily put on. He sat down and finished off the firewhiskey. "Now, where were we? Oh yes, your delightful rekindling of you petty romance with Higgs. How did that go? Did he learn any new tricks?"

I pretended to pick at a nonexistent threat on my quilt. "No. And nothing's been rekindled, for your information," not that it _is_ any of your business.

"Then what was that spectacle of you forcing your tongue down his throat?" he said, chortling.

I hated it when Adrian was drunk; he made the most insurable comments. "I was bladdered."  
"No need to tell me that, Lisa."  
Sighting, I turned around to face him. "As soon as he wakes up, there will be nothing going on between Terrence and me. What happened here tonight," I waved my hand around for emphasis. "Was a mistake I don't plan on repeating."  
"I'd take you more seriously if this were the first time you said it."

I smirked, "Perhaps you are right, Adrian. But unlike the last time – this time I don't give a crap what you or anybody else thinks."  
"And why is that?"

"Because I know better now," I said with finality. Terrence wasn't for me. All the time his hands were on my body, all my cells were screaming in disgust. I could never let him kiss me, see me, or touch me like before. When it came down to it, I'd have to face the consequences, but there was nothing in my father's arsenal that would be worse than going to bed beside that slimy prat every night, till death do us part.

Unless, of course, he asked me to marry Flint – because that would just be gross. I'm not into inter-breed mating.

"I believe you owe me a story now, Adrian," I said with a smug smile to hide my almost-genuine concern. "_Why _have you been imitating Moaning Myrtle minus the actual moaning for the past couple of weeks?"

Adrian studied me steadily, his blue eyes holding mine. "That, dear Lisa, is a story for another night. You wouldn't understand half of it – and we both know you are a terror when you don't understand something. I'd rather not have to go through that."

* * *

After the dementor incident, or rather _because_ of the dementor incident, Lupin decided to borrow some time away from N.E.W.T. preparation to focus on learning the patronus charm. "This is very advanced magic," he said to a class of open-mouth, are-you-kidding-me looking students "Far more advanced than anything you'd need for your examinations. However there is a world outside of school, even if you don't believe me right now and this is a peculiarly useful charm."

We had been at it for two weeks. It was the Friday before Hallowe'en (and Hogsmeade) and already several people had managed to produce not only silvery gas but a corporeal honest-to-Salazar patronus.

And I was seething with jealousy.

Like all other defense against the dark arts classes, we were paired with our seat partners, as Lupin liked to call them. Wood had managed to produce that silly bear of his after the first hour of trying, earning Gryffindor thirty points and almost giving Weasley an aneurism. He was on the other side of the room trying so hard to concentrate I was surprised his eyes hadn't popped out yet. Penelope was happily staring at her silver duck.

"Maybe if you stopped glaring at people and focused you might be able to produce _something_ before lesson is over," Wood drawled, making books levitate from his place on the floor. I shot him daggers and attempted again. I conjured up images of all things happy: winning the house cup, bullying Francis, lounging around near the lake in a crisp, autumn morning – but nothing worked.

"And if you are _still_ thinking about shoes, then you really need better memories."

I screamed in frustration, with my mouth shut, making it sound like a chocked horse before sitting down next to Wood, my head supported by one hand. He patted my shoulder, his patronizing tone a saccharine sweet, "Now, now, no need to get down on yourself. I'm sure you'll get it –eventually."  
I dug my heel into his shoe; his yelp of pain was all the satisfaction I needed.

"Now that you got that out of your system," he continued massaging his injured foot. "Perhaps we should really work on what kinds of memories you are conjuring up."

"Can't we just call it a break?" I said with a sight, levitating a spider. "Tomorrow is Hallowe'en , Hogsmeade- my mind is just not up to it," and up the spider goes…

"Sarah, you need to learn this spell."

"I'm not planning on going to Azkaban, and even if I did end up there, I rather doubt I'd be allowed a wand; therefore, there is no 'must' to abide by."

I heard him sigh as I tried to levitate the spider far enough to put it inside of Weasley's pants. "Sarah," Wood said, grabbing my wand arm and making me lose my spider. Bugger. "It's a hard spell, but it is perfectly doable."  
I rolled my eyes. Says the little bugger who is probably exploding with happy memories. The wanker is probably been thinking about brooms and balls this entire time.

"Use your eyes and look around Wood," I said, scanning the room for a new spider. "Do you see a pattern in people's success?" He didn't reply for a few minutes, and I gave up finding my itsy bitsy spider.

"No."

I grabbed his head between my hands and forced him to look where I wanted. "Over there, see that group of Hufflepuffs?" he nodded. "All of them, except for one, have produced a corporeal or semi-corporeal patronus. And the one who hasn't at least managed a nice wisp of gas.'

"A good amount of Gryffindor's managed to do quite well," I said, moving his head to where Emma Bones and Alexander Smith were producing shapes that resembled a dove and a lizard. "As for Ravenclaws – I'd say only a third of them have produced anything more solid that insipid vapour, but most have produced _something_. Now, can you tell me which group hasn't produced anything?" I asked, releasing his head and wiping my hands on my quilt.

"The Slytherins." I nodded. Darlene was waving her wand hysterically, yelling and cursing each time nothing happened. Willow was sitting on a desk, her brows furrowed and her tongue sticking out of her lips as she laid down another Tarot card. Terrence wasn't even trying; instead, he was sweet talking some Hufflepuff girl whose patronus was a fluffy bunny. Adrian and Flint had given up a long time ago and were now actively duelling each other.

I turned my attention back to Wood, who was staring at Flint dodging Adrian's jinx in deep concentration. "It makes no sense – if anything, I'd say that Slytherins and Ravenclaws should be the most proficient ones."  
I snorted. "Misconception, Wood; cunning and logic can carry you through most aspects of your life quite wonderfully. But they both fail when encountered by emotions – and the Patronus Charm is based on the strength of your happy thoughts."

He snorted. "So you are saying that both houses are less likely to be _happy_? That's a bit extreme, don't you think?"

"Ravenclaw's are probably overanalyzing it," I admitted with a nod. "But I do believe that is the case for the rest of us. Happy thoughts aren't exactly common in our repertoire."

"That's bollocks," he said, facing me. "You can't tell me you don't have a single happy memory to draw upon. I refuse to believe that."

"How very Gryffindor-esque," I said, rolling my eyes. "Of course we have happy memories it's just that most of them usually don't have a happy ending."

"How so?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and flashing me a toothless, cocky grin.  
I smacked him in the back of the head. "When you live with snakes, every bite has poison. And being a snake really limits the type of people you can make happy memories with."

* * *

**Author's note: **WOW 6 reviews! You guys rock! A big hug to Terinka14, Sapurplemonkey (always read everyone's reviews!), AlphaGirl224, Lola Marlene Black Wowzas, & xxXMizz Alec VolturiXx and everyone who reads/favorites/follows :)

This was a fairly packed chapter, quite a bit going on. Next up: Hogsmade! Halloween! Sirius Black! Sleeping bags!


	9. Inappropriate

**Disclaimer**: All recognizable characters/places are owned by J.K. Rowling and her publishers, and I do not claim ownership over them or their world. No copyright infringement is intended; this piece leads to no financial gain and it is written for the purpose of personal enjoyment and skill development. OC's and plot do belong to me.

* * *

**Chapter 9 – Inappropriate**

Hogsmeade was a blast; even for its regular arse-kicking standards. The reason? This was the first year I was seventeen and that meant: firewhiskey, red currant rum, candy cane flavoured coffee liquor – you name it, I had it. I blame my alcoholic addiction on a society that put excessively demands on pure-blood teenage witches like me.

Terrence had drunk himself to an almost stupor – after giving me hell for not going with him. He mentioned something about missing out on tea at Madam Puddifoot, but I really missed the part in which I was supposed to care. Darlene was, well, Darlene: sitting on some bloke's leg (a Ravenclaw, I think), and giggling like hyndypunk before luring an innocent prey to their muddy death. Willow was staring into the depths of her gillywater while Adrian talked Quidditch with Flint, who wasn't paying squat of attention since he was far more concerned with cooking up ways to murder the Gryffindor captain.

Who was, incidentally, being completely disgusting with that Chihuahua–I mean, girlfriend- of his.

"I can't wait to send him back to the filthy cat he came from," Flint muttered, taking a long gulp from his rum. If I didn't know better, I'd think Flint was in love with him. Pity I know better, that would've become the funniest rumour at Hogwarts but I happen to like the way my nose looks right now. I don't want it punched out of shape.

I looked sideways to Adrian, who was back to being his insufferable twit self, thank Salazar, to exchange mocking glances only to see he had the most diabolical smirk plastered on his face. I narrowed my eyes, and returned to my almost-finished drink. I never liked his smirks – they meant trouble.

Sometimes, I really hate Adrian.

"I wonder who is more obsessed with Wood: Flint, or you Lizzie," he said, toasting me with his glass before drinking. "I bet you'd look dashing dangling from his arm."

Arshole, I tell you. "I don't _dangle_ from any bloke's arms, Adrian."

"What kind of idiot would even _want_ you Montieth? Other than the poor lost soul passed out over there," Flint replied, pointing his thumb to Terrence's pathetic existence.

I felt slightly offended. "Flint, please. I'm a Slytherin, pure-blood, and bleeding beautiful witch. I can snatch any man I want." Both blokes snickered, and even Willow had trouble hiding a small smile. With friends like these… "Well, if you lot are done insulting me, I'm going to get me a drink," I said, finishing off my glass and offering Adrian a drunken pout before sauntering off towards the bar.

I sat on a miraculously empty stool and asked for a refill. The bartender looked at me oddly, asking me if I hadn't had too much to drink already.

Psht.

I smiled in what I hoped was a seductive way, and handed him five galleons. He looked at the money, shrugged, and filled my glass. I took a sip of the rum, enjoying the feeling of the liquor on my tongue. Happier, I turned around ready to join my venomous snakes once more when my sight drifted over the Wood's table. They were holding hands. I felt like puking, didn't they know how unsanitary that could be?

Stupid Gryffindors.

Feeling a little nauseated (nothing that more booze couldn't cure!) I sat down at the table thinking that the conversation would've gone back to, I don't know, Quidditch? Well, it hadn't.

I couldn't help the cold feeling of foreboding and upcoming doom creeping up my spine. Willow had lifted her head from her drink, Flint was staring at me expectantly, and Adrian was smirking like the sodding Slytherin he is.

I needed a drink.

"We have a proposition," Flint started the moment I sat down. I lifted my glass to my lips, and swallowed half the contents in one gulp. The strong taste of cinnamon and nutmeg prepared me for his idea. I stared at him for a minute, letting the words sink in. Something in my stomach told me to run away and never come back. Something in my brain told me I already had a drink, but I could always go for another one especially if I may be able to smuggle it free somehow.

Note to self: never trust your brain when you are sloshed.

* * *

We arrived back at the common room just as the feast was starting in the Great Hall. I run up to my dorm to change from my snow sodden clothes into a tastefully short little black dress and some un-walk-able pumps. The plan included skipping the feast, sitting on the sofa, drinking and eating lots of candies. I wasn't going to be required to walk, and I enjoyed being able to look at people's eyes without going on my tiptoes if I desired to stand up.

Adrian, Willow, and I spent the entire evening playing exploding snap and laughing like a bunch of twits in between eating candy. Willow even allowed us to have a guess at her tarot card meanings, and we came up with some of the weirdest ideas: something about Mars being bright and having to beware of frozen lollipops. We were laughing hysterically as the devil propped up for me again. Adrian, beside me, pulled my dress down where it had slipped up my thighs so it remained the length it was intended to be.

Sometimes I really love Adrian.

It was just after midnight when Snape decided to crash the party (as he usually did – he didn't like it when youngsters got involved). This time, however, his usually expressionless face looked almost excited. "Follow me, grab your wands," he said before turning around without a second glance.

Without hesitating, Adrian jumped to his feet and offered Willow and me each a hand to help us get up. Thankfully, by this late hour I had sobered up considerably and only needed Adrian for brief walking support _up_ the effing stairs.

The Great Hall was packed with students whispering to each other in small groups, while Flitwick and McGonagall charmed the windows and every exposable surface. Snape hurried us in, and went back to talk to Dumbledore, Weasley and the Hufflepuff Head Girl.

I still can't get over that one.

"You," Flint said grabbing a passing young Ravenclaw by the neck, "What the bloody hell is going on?"

I peeked over Adrian's shoulders, curious myself. The poor boy looked terrified. "S-sirius B-Black," he stuttered, "in G-Gryffindor tower." I saw Flint role his eyes before forcefully releasing the boy who ran for it.

"Leave it up to the Gryffindorks to ruin Hallowe'en ," he muttered angrily. I heard whispers of agreement. My curiosity not satiated in the least, I grabbed Adrian's arm and began pulling him away from the group of snakes.

"Where are we going?"

"We are hunting for kittens; I want details," I said through clenched teeth: Adrian wasn't being too passive and forcing him my way was putting quite an amount of pressure on my precious toes. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, we reached the two blonde heads I had been looking for. Unfortunately, they weren't alone.

"Francis," I said while trying to evade being run over by a bunch of scared Hufflepuffs. "What is going on?"

Gwen, who until then had her head hidden in Wood's stomach, looked up and run towards me. She crashed against me so forcefully, that Adrian had to catch me from behind so I wouldn't fall. "Lisa! I'm scared!" she whined. It took a lot of self-control not to roll my eyes. I knew Gwen was faking, she had mastered the art of 'look cute and scared; reap the benefits' at age three.

"It's okay, Gwennie, everything will be fine," I said, patting the top of her curly head in what I supposed was a motherly fashion. Adrian snickered in my ear. Gwen lifted her head to look up and her baby blue eyes widened; she untangled herself from my clothes and didn't run back to Wood. Instead, she simply looked down at her robes and began straightened them. Dismissing her odd behaviour as part of her being a Ravenclaw, I turned my attention back to my other cousin. "Well?"

Francis was staring at Gwen (I think it was at Gwen) with a confused expression on his face. Knowing it could take him years to figure things out, I looked pointedly at Wood. "Sirius Black tried to force his way into Gryffindor tower," he said "But the Fat Lady didn't let him in so he ripped her canvas. They are searching the castle now."

"Why today though?" Adrian asked, releasing me from the arms he had used to stabilize me. "I mean, with the racket that was probably going on in the Great Hall he must have realized it was Hallowe'en ."

"Why Gryffindor tower?" I asked, more to myself than to my companions. Adrian nudged me and then looked forward, where three third year Gryffindors were talking in hushed voices. "Oh."

"You'd better a keep an eye on your seeker, Wood, or you'll be forced to relieve the final match from two years ago," Adrian said, sending Wood a sneer and poking me to start moving. I bid them adieu and began walking back to our group of venomous snakes. Terrence was looking around him, an evil grin breaking out when he saw us coming.

He sauntered over to meet us, apparently unconcerned with the knowledge that a psychopathic murderer was loose in the castle. "We are going to sleep in the Great Hall tonight," he said when he had reached us; Adrian's hand had darted to my waist. "Dumbledore wants all prefects to stay up and patrol. I guess we really couldn't ask for a more romantic night, could we Lisa?" he whispered in my ear before passing me by. I shivered.

"I'll stay with you, if you want," Adrian said, his hand tightening around my low back.

I shook my head. "That's fine; I'll make sure to stay in the opposite side of the hall. Besides, with Weasley the third patrolling I doubt he'd be able to try much." I offered him a small smile and walked back towards where Francis and company were standing. If I wanted to ward of Terrence, I needed to venture into enemy territory.

My two cousins were deep into a sibling fight. I almost didn't want to approach them, again. I try my best to stay out of their fights. But a) I reckoned I needed to for my plan to succeed, b) Gwen saw me and c), Williams was there and her face looked as red as Weasley's hair.

That was provokingly interesting.

Gwen had re-attached herself to Wood and was holding on to the front of his robes, while Williams tried to yank her back and Francis just shouted. "But I want to sleep with Oliver! I'm scared!"

Woah. "Don't you think that's a little inappropriate, Gwen?" I added my two Knuts; three pair of eyes glared at me, one redder than the other. Gwen looked positively satisfied. She even mouthed "jealous?" before diverting back to arguing with Francis.

"Gwendolyn! There is a serial killer in this castle!" Francis tried to reason with the girl. "And there is simply no well in hell I'm letting you _sleep_ with a bloke! Not until you are forty at least."

Talk about old fashioned. "You're not coming anywhere near him, you little brat!" Williams said, the veins in her neck pulsing violently. She had a fistful of Gwen's robes and was trying to pry her arm away from her boyfriend, but Gwen was stronger than her lithe frame showed. I narrowed my eyes, an idea coming to my mind. I quickly eliminated all distance between the scene and myself, and popped out my wand.

"Williams, you are bordering on aggravated assault. I think that could easily be what? Fifty points from Gryffindor and a detention?" I said, using my wand as a pointer to slap the back of her hands. She retrieved them with a scolw. Her lips curled over her teeth. I knew she was ready for a catfight, not that I wasn't, but she wasn't stupid enough to try anything in front of the teachers.

She did a one eighty turn of tactics. "Are you going to pick that brat over me, Oliver?" she screeched, turning around to face the poor idiot. If I had a camera, I would have loved to take a picture of Wood's face. I could picture it in Witch Weekly's front page: 'Quidditch bloke trapped between a promiscuous prepubescent girl and insufferable girlfriend: The new definition of hell?"

Sighting, Wood picked at Gwen's fingers and pulled them apart and away from his clothes. He didn't look at Williams when he spoke. "She's thirteen, Abi, and she's scared-'

"Scared my arse!" Williams shouted, her eyes watering faster than Flint could burn down a cauldron. "She's a spoiled, annoying little brat who-"

Two sets of wands were on her neck before she could finish. "Watch it," Francis and I said together, giving each other a surprised look of camaraderie over the corner of our eyes. Wood shrugged and Williams snapped.

She huffed, cleaned her eyes with the back of her hand and turned around, not before saying the ultimate punch line. "Fine, if that's your choice then _stay_ with her. It's not like I need you."

Wood sighed, tried to say something to us, failed, and fled following his angry bird. "That was fun," I said a little more cheery than I was before.

Francis threw me a disbelieving look before putting both hands on Gwen and forcing her to turn around to face him. "What is wrong with you? You are _thirteen_ Gwendolyn! How can you be thinking about sleeping with a bloke?"

Gwen stared at him, a triumphant smile on her face. "I didn't mean it like _that_. I am only thirteen, Francis; you are making a dragon out of a chicken's egg."

Francis looked at me. I looked at him, equally stunned.

"She's your cousin."  
"She's your sister."

* * *

Twenty blisters and two hours later, Dumbledore returned to inform us that Sirius Black had, once again, escaped. I couldn't say I was upset since it meant I could finally kick off my shoes and go to sleep. I summoned one of the few unused purple bags over to where I was, which was on the northeast corner of the Great Hall, conspicuously far from where Terrence had been patrolling.  
Francis was snoring, his sleeping bag as close to the one Wood and Gwen were sharing as humanly possible. Gwen's head was tucked beneath Wood's as she too seemed to be in deep sleep. The Gryffindor captain, on the other hand, was wide awake.

"Did they find him?" he whispered as I laid down on the other side of him; I knew Wood had better morals than most of the blokes I had the misfortune to associate myself with, but I was still a distrustful, overprotective Slytherin who knew Francis was rubbish with spells.

"No," I replied, kicking my shoes off before wrapping myself up in the purple fabric. If only I had a sodding pillow…

"Bugger."

I nodded, or I think I did; I was falling asleep, pillow or no pillow. "Do you reckon Gwen was actually scared? She fell asleep quite fast." I snorted. "What? She's thirteen, Sarah."

"My point exactly," I replied with a yawn.

"You don't reckon she fancies me do you?" I lacked the energy to burst out laughing at the panicked tone in his voice. Instead, I settled for a noncommittal shrug. "She's a nice kid and all but… she's a kid, Sarah."

"Mm."

"Don't act like you don't care," I cracked an eye open to stare at him, wondering if I could get away with hexing him with Dumbledore in the room. "If you didn't care, you would be on the other side of this blasted room, comfortable tucked in Higgs' arms instead of acting like mother hen."

I stared at him evenly before closing my eyes and turning over so I faced the wall. "You are wrong on more than one account in that sentence, Wood."  
I heard him snort. "Yeah right; neither you nor Francis trust me, I don't have a ruddy clue why. Or is there another reason why you are still hanging around?" I heard the mockery even if I didn't see him grin.

Another yawn escaped me, and I didn't bother to cover it up. "It's not Gwen that needs looking after Wood, it's you." That did not come out the way I wanted it to. My eyes snapped open and I could feel my cheeks reddening. Thankfully, there was no one there to see me – but there was also no way Wood hadn't heard.

He chuckled. "Ow, little Sarah cares for my safety? How sweet!"

I grabbed one of my heels and threw it over at him, missing and hitting Francis instead. Wood just laughed. "Sod off!"

* * *

**Author's note: **Your responses have been amazing guys! I'm go glad you're enjoying this. Big hugs xxMizz Alec VolturiXx, Lyra Bellatrix Lestrange (Oliver and Elizabeth's relationship won't be an easy ride, but that always makes a better read ;), Ladey Jezzabella (I'm glad you're enjoying the characters :) and greacedkelly (glad to be of service ;)

Next chapter is Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff, and a little revelation;)


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